All Fall Down
by Sweetbix
Summary: Marco was gay. Sean left her. Craig didn't feel the same way about her that she did about him. When Jesse cheats on her, it's the last straw, leading her down a path she swore she'd never return to.
1. Chapter 1

A/N This is an Ellie plot-bunny that I've had running around my head for a few weeks now, and since it's final exam time I figured it was the perfect time to start writing it! I'll try to update frequently, and the chapters should get longer.

This is the first time I've written fanfic or any creative writing since 2002, so I'm still getting back in the groove – please be gentle!

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I'm sitting there, like I do every second Tuesday. I listen to the deep and meaningful discussion going on around the circle, but I am detached from it. I can't relate to it. I can't relate to _them_. I don't know why I still come, force of habit I suppose.

Don't get me wrong, I used to love my group. But now it's full of young kids whining about teenage problems, a stage in my life that I'm glad to be passed. I'm totally stable now. Honestly.

Right now a girl's talking about the Degrassi-Lakehurst merger and how the chaos of school is making her feel stressed and out of control. Tucking a strand of curly brown hair behind her ear she explains that school used to be an escape from her home life.

"It was so routine, you know? When I woke up and in the evening I didn't know what my dad was going to be like or what would be happening with my little sister. But at school I knew exactly what was happening and when. I knew what classes I had to go to, I knew what the cafeteria menu for the week was, I knew where my friends would sit at lunch. But now I share a locker and I don't know if Amanda will have moved my stuff around. I don't know if there'll be any tables to eat at for lunch. I don't know any of the Degrassi people so I don't know half the people in my classes." God how trivial. "I felt safe at school but now I don't." She plays with the cuff of her sleeve. "I never used to cut myself at school. I didn't need to. But now…" She trails off.

Mark, our group leader, smiles at her. "Thanks Natalie. Anyone else feel like sharing at this point… Ellie, let's here from you."

Shit. I know he wants me to talk about cutting. Most of the kids are kinda new here don't even know I used to cut and I don't really feel like exposing myself to them. Mark's looking at me intently, waiting.

"Not much to report, really. Life's moving along, relationship with Jesse's going great, umm my parents are both at home at the moment though Dad's leaving shortly after Christmas, but hey, he's in the army, it happens, I'm used to it. Honestly, the hardest thing in my life at the moment is my roommates Paige and Marco. They both just broke up with their partners so the atmosphere at the flat isn't the best with them sulking all over the place. But that just means I spend more time away from the house at university, which is good cos I get lots of study done." Shut up Ellie, you're rambling. Just close your mouth and look like you're in control.

"Is your course-load alright? You're not feeling too pressured?" Mark's starting to push.

"It's fine, honestly. What do you want me to say? That I'm having a horrible time? Life's… going good." Make eye contact. Smile. Around at everyone.

"That's great to hear, Ellie." His tone doesn't give much away, I can't tell if he believes me or not. Thankfully he moves on to the next poor soul. I drift back inside my head. Next thing I know Mark's speaking again, thanking us all for coming and reminding us that he's going away for Christmas so group won't be on again for a couple of weeks. He finishes, and I stand up, pulling on my jacket. Time to go home to my delightful roommates.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Thanks, DegrassiRoxzMiSoxz88 and pepe132, for your reviews! They inspired me to get on with the next chapter quickly!

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"Hello", I called as I entered the house. No one answered. I shut the door behind me and climbed the stairs up to my room. I slung my backpack onto my bed and shrugged off my jacket, hanging it on the doorknob. Glancing at my clock I saw that it was nearly seven. Who should be cooking dinner today… Marco I think.

I find Marco in the lounge watching TV with Paige.

"Marco, Paige. What are you watching?"

"_The Piano._" Paige answered me without looking up, her eyes glued to the screen.

Marco elaborated for me. "It's about a mute woman who gets sent off with her daughter to live in New Zealand with a husband her father picked for her. But she doesn't love him, she's in love with her neighbour – shit, he just cut off her finger!"

"What a psycho. Do you know who else is psycho? Alex, I can't believe she nearly got me fired."

"Sure, Paige, but you can't completely blame Stewart. She's his wife, she shouldn't be off having sex with the neighbour – especially with Flora watching!"

"She didn't know her daughter was looking through the door, Marco."

"Still, it shouldn't be happening. She should be completely devoted to her husband. Look at me and Dylan. Hockey was more important to him, he went off to Switzerland to play and I got completely ignored. Our relationship should have been more significant to him… but I guess it wasn't."

Ugh, so not in the mood for a deep and meaningful about their failed relationships. "Gee, guys, you seem really down about Alex and Dylan – who, by the way, YOU dumped. So how bout you guys watch the rest of the movie while I go and cook dinner."

"You're cooking, hun? Are you sure that's safe?" Oh how I hate Paige sometimes. How did I end up flatting with the girl who'd alternately mocked and ignored me all through High School.

"Don't worry, Paige, I'll just whip up a stir fry. I can't ruin that easily."

"No, but I'm sure you'll try."

"I'll slide some arsenic into yours Paige, wouldn't want to shock you by serving up something edible."

"Guys, come on, lay off. Paige, just let Ellie get on with cooking dinner."

Thank you Marco. Don't acknowledge that I'm doing your job for you, it's ok, I don't care. Keep watching your movie and brooding about Dylan. I walk into the kitchen and pull out a fry-pan, then open up the fridge to see what vegetables we have. I dump them on the bench next to the chopping board, then pull out the second drawer. Compartment on the far left, grab the handle of a vegetable knife. I pause, looking at the sharp point and shiny edge. I think about Paige and Marco and how uncomfortable it's been living with them lately. I think about the Philosophy essay and Journalism assignment I have due on Friday that I haven't started yet. I think about my dad, leaving again to fight, and my mom, left on her own. Who knows what could happen.

How would it feel to drag the sharp point through my skin again? Would it be calming, would it make everything else go away? Clutching the handle in my left hand I glide my right index finger along the blunt edge of the blade. It probably would help. _Does it feel good? _Paige had asked me three years ago. Yes, Paige, it does. It would relieve me.

I shouldn't do it… not after resisting urges for two years. Two years' hard work could be undone in a moment. No. I can't, I'm over this.

"Ell-ie, can you not put soy sauce in it this time, I don't like soy sauce". Marco's yelling at me from the lounge. I have to get out of here. I sidle out of the kitchen and climb the stairs quietly, grabbing my jacket and Philosophy textbooks from my room. I'll go to university and study there instead, people will still be in the newspaper office. It beats hanging out at home. Passing through the kitchen I grab an apple and a couple of muesli bars which will have to do for dinner.

I walk down the street quickly. Why did I have to consider cutting again? That's a teenage problem, a High School problem. Something people like Natalie do, not what a college student in a happy relationship should be doing.

I turn left, to cut through the park. Then again, what harm would cutting do? If it made me feel good, and it was only once, and no one found out…

I pass a couple walking hand in hand. Not an option, Jesse would find out, he'd see the red streaks cutting would leave on my arms. I don't want him knowing what I used to do, he'd think I'm a freak. I'm finally in a successful relationship, why do anything to ruin it.

Leaving the park I walk alongside a fence. I stick out my right arm and drag my hand along the ridges. A dull pain goes through my knuckles, then they go numb. Maybe I can hurt myself without leaving scars for others to find.

I cross the road and pull out my student ID card, and swipe my way into the building. Nah, that's not real cutting. It won't be as good. I'm tougher than that.

I walk up a flight of stairs. I'll go work on my essay, go home, sleep, and I'll feel better in the morning. I'll laugh at myself, tomorrow, for thinking that I need to cut. It's just a bad day.

Outside the newspaper office I see that I'm right, the lights are on. I can quietly study in here with friendly people. Well people who aren't sulking over their love lives and insulting my cooking. Infinitely preferable to home.

Opening the door, I see Jesse at his desk, sitting on his chair – with some girl on his lap?!

"Jesse?"

He and the woman looked up, startled, but their arms stayed wrapped around each other. I gaped at seeing her face.

"CAITLIN RYAN?"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Thanks for the reviews! Rainpath, this is my favourite Degrassi plot too. I didn't like how it was only minimally continued on the show, which is what lead to me writing this story.

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I bolted.

Jesse and Caitlin… my boyfriend and my old boss. What is it about me that makes everyone leave? Marco turned gay, Sean went home to his parents, Craig chose Manny. Even my best friend ran off to England. And my Dad left me whenever he was called overseas, leaving me with Mom. Stuck with me, Mom had to _drink_ to escape mentally.

Am I that boring, that horrible to be around? I guess so.

Why would Caitlin _do_ that? How old is she? Like, thirty-four? And she has to hook up with a college student. _My _boyfriend.

And Jesse. I thought we were doing OK after getting back together. But he's just like everyone else. I'm too weird, too young, too boring, not cool enough for him.

Arriving home I slam the front door. Marco's in the kitchen cooking, having dragged himself away from the television. "Hey, El, what's wrong? You just took off suddenly, and you come back upset. What happened?"

I consider telling him. I want to tell him that Jesse was at his desk entangled with Caitlin Ryan, that I feel so alone, that I want nothing more right now than to drag a sharp point through my skin until I feel better.

"You have the perfect boyfriend who's devoted to you, who doesn't abandon you. What could possibly have you so upset?"

I smile unconvincingly. "I'm just tired, that's all Marco. I'm gonna head to bed."

Up in my room I find my CD case, and flip to the back. Stars and James Blunt. I wish my razor blades and knives were still in there, along with a strip of band aids and a small bottle of disinfectant. I threw them out last year after telling myself I was done with cutting for good.

There's a knock on my door. "Ellie?"

Paige. I'm reminded of that day in tenth grade.

"_Ellie, you're bleeding."_

"_Ellie, I saw."_

"_Why would you do that to yourself?"_

"_You need to talk to someone."_

"_You're hurting yourself."_

"_Show me your arm."_

"_What you're doing is dangerous, ok, it's scary."_

"_Oh, Ellie. It's ok. It's ok."_

Please, Paige, come and ask me if I'm ok. I'll tell you that I'm fine and you'll tell me to tell the truth. Please, forget about Alex and come and tell me that Jesse's an ass, and that I'll find someone new, that he doesn't matter. And maybe Marco will forget about Dylan for a couple of hours, and we can all watch TV together like friends, and I can think that there are people out there that don't want to abandon me.

"Caitlin Ryan's here, Ellie, she's downstairs. She wants to talk to you."

Here, in my house? No way. She doesn't get to make out with my boyfriend and then follow me home when I'm trying to escape them.

"Paige, I'm really tired. I'm going to bed. I can't talk to her now." _Or ever. _

"Don't be ridiculous, it's still early. Come down and talk to her."

"No."

"Ok, then I'll send her up here."

I heard her walking down the hall then her feet thudding down the stairs. Shit, I don't want Caitlin up here. I slide the lock into place on the door as I hear a second pair of footsteps on the stairs.

"Ellie? It's Caitlin." _No, really?_

"Can I come in?"

I look around my room, searching. I must have something sharp in here.

"I guess that's a no then."

I grab a drawing pin from my notice-board. Caitlin keeps talking.

"I swear, Ellie, I didn't know you and Jesse were together. He told me after you ran off. I thought he was single."

Pushing the pin across my skin leaves a faint pink mark but it's too difficult to dig in, my flesh too resistant. I need a bigger weapon that will slide in effortlessly and raise blood quickly.

"I got your address off him, I just had to come and try and explain it to you. Ellie, honestly, I didn't know. I didn't set out to hurt you." She laughs nervously. "I do that so often, I think what I'm doing's ok but it's not. Even when I was younger. When my friend was pregnant and about to get kicked out of school I wrote an article defending her. Turns out it wasn't what she wanted – she just wanted to be left alone – but by then everyone had read it. Caitlin Ryan screws up again."

I curse myself for not having any razor blades. The only blades I have are enclosed inside my pink disposable razors. Unless I can get one out… I pick up a razor and examine it, then pick up a pen. I stick the ballpoint in a gap between the plastic and push. A piece flies off. I turn the razor over and jab another piece off. A bigger piece cracks off this time, and I can wriggle two slim blades out. I settle cross-legged on my bed with the blades and some tissues. Caitlin's still talking, I need to block her out.

"Ellie, please, talk to me. I know you're hurting. I want to help."

_Help? Bleeding will help me._ I hold a blade between the tip of my thumb and the side of my index finger and bring it to my arm. It glides along and I feel nothing, nothing… then blood rises and blobs form along the thickening line, spilling over. Then the pain comes. Caitlin's voice fades, she's saying something about leaving her number so I can call her later. I make another cut, and another, four, five, six. I swipe at my arm with a tissue, wiping the blood off. For a second my arm is bare, then blood wells up and lines my cuts again. Seven, eight, nine. Tears cloud my vision. I blink my eyes and bring the blade to my arm a final time. Ten, eleven, twelve.

Twelve cuts had always felt complete.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Thanks, reviewers! It took me a bit longer to update this time, but my final exam has been and gone and I can get back to writing now, yay.

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It hardly seemed that any time had gone by when I woke up the next morning, still clothed, sprawled across my bed. My arm was lined with dry blood and I felt guilty looking at it. I'd broken my promise to myself that I was done with cutting for good. I shoved my sleeve down, pretending that flawless skin lay beneath it.

I mindlessly packed my backpack for the day then headed downstairs for breakfast. Paige and Marco were at the table, and Paige of course wanted to interrogate me on why Caitlin was at our place the previous night.

"Ellie, morning hun. So I noticed you had a visitor last night.

_Yeah, no shit. Well noticed Paige. _"Morning Paige, morning Marco. Any porridge left?"

"Sure, it's on the stove. Did you have a nice catch-up with Caitlin?"

Marco shot her a look when she said that, but she kept going. "She left her phone number in case you want to talk more, it's on the fridge. What did she want anyway? It's not like you've seen her since your co-op job, which was years ago."

_On second thought, I can go without breakfast today. _"Sorry Paige, I've got to get going, we'll have to talk later."

Of course, then Marco had to jump in. "So soon, Elle? You don't have class till eleven."

"Yeah, I've got some… stuff… that I really need to do at The Core first."

"Stuff, eh?" He winks at me.

"Not like that, Marco. Stuff like quitting."

"Quitting? But Ellie, you love writing for the paper." Paige again. Thank you, Miss Buttinski.

"It's cutting into my study time. If I want to _pass_ my papers this semester, I have to give it up. But whatev, I can pick it up again later. I've really got to go, see you later."

Jesse's never in the office that early on a Wednesday, so I was confident that I could slip in, grab my stuff and leave a note on his desk. No such luck. There he is, sitting at his desk – just where he was last night with Caitlin. I'm contemplating quietly sneaking out again and coming back later, when he looks up and locks eyes with me.

"Ellie…" he starts, then doesn't seem to have anywhere to go.

"Hmm? Something to say?"

"Ellie, I'm sorry, ok –"

"No, actually it's _not_. It's not ok. Cheating on me is _not _ok. And with my old boss who is _how much _older than you. Not ok, Jesse." I don't want him to see my tears so I turn away from him and gather my things from my desk – no, my old desk. Still with my back turned, I speak to him. "By the way, I quit the paper. So you won't need to worry about me interrupting you while you and Caitlin make out."

"Please, Ellie, we can work this out. What I did was wrong, but is it really any worse than what you did with Craig?"

The tears are falling harder down my face as I turn and face him. "No, Jesse, we can't. I _never _want to see or hear from you again. Goodbye, Jesse."

At the door I turn to face him one last time. "Have a nice life, Jesse. Enjoy fucking Caitlin Ryan; I'm sure she won't bore you like I did."

Class. Lunch. Library. Assignment. I have a Journalism piece and a Philosophy essay due on Friday and I don't know how I'm going to get them done. I've been concentrating on the Journalism because I'm completely lost in Philosophy and I have no idea how to write 1500 words about it. Naturally, being behind in both classwork and assignments, I meet Ashley at The Dot once she's finished school. _Just for an hour or two,_ I tell myself, _then I'll get back to my work._

I'm sitting at a table with my coffee in front of me, playing with a sugar packet, when Ash arrives. She waves at me, orders her own coffee from the counter, then settles herself in the seat across from me. Ash's always been a bit unobservant in regard to other people so I'm surprised when the first thing she says to me is "what's wrong?"

I smile at her. "Nothing's wrong, Ash, why would you think that?"

"Firstly, you're here on time, and before me. Ellie Nash is anything but punctual. Second, the fidgeting with the sugar packet. Third, Paige texted me last night and said you were grumpy about something. But mainly because you look like you're gonna cry."

She's right, and my tears are about to spill over. I hate crying but I can't seem to stop it today. I concentrate really hard on the pattern in the wood of the table. I don't answer her, I won't be able to talk without crying. Ash reaches over and grabs my hand. "Ellie?"

I squeeze my eyes shut briefly, willing myself not to cry. "Jesse. And Caitlin. Jesse and Caitlin. Together"

"Caitlin – as in, Caitlin Ryan?"

"That's the one."

"And by together you mean…"

"They were so together when I saw them last night that they couldn't keep their hands off each other."

"Oh, Ellie."

I laugh bitterly, even though there's really nothing funny about it. "What is it about me, Ash, that makes guys flee?"

"It's not you, Ellie, Jesse's just an asshole."

"He's not the first to run, though. Marco, Sean…" I trail off, not wanting to mention Craig, who is, after all, her ex not mine.

"And Craig chose Manny? Ellie, none of that had anything to do with you. None of that was your fault."

She's interrupted when a young brunette comes over. "Hi, Ellie. I saw you sitting here and I thought I should come and say hello."

I wrack my brain trying to figure out who she is. "Hi, Natalie. How are you?"

"Fine, looking forward to the end of the week and the Christmas break though. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing great. Everything's… peachy."

She smiles, and gestures to her takeaway cup of coffee. "Well, I'd better keep moving. I have to be home by 4 and now that I have enough caffeine to get me through my MI assignment this evening I should get on to it. See you in group."

_She had to mention group, didn't she. _Ashley loves talking about group.

"She's from your group? How's that going?"

"It's fine. We've got a couple of weeks off over Christmas. I don't know if I'll go back though."

"Are you sure that's safe?"

"Of course it's safe, Ash. I'm fine now, totally better. Have been for ages."

"And you haven't… you know."

"Not for two years." _As long as you don't count last night. _

"And you won't be tempted to, with what's happened with Jesse?"

"No. Years of therapy have taught me new coping methods." _Please believe me, and don't ask to see my arm. _

"I'm glad, Elle. But _call me_ if you think you're going to. The next few days are probably going to be really rough."

"That's cheery, Ash. But thanks. I will."

Somehow coffee with Ashley turned into dinner at her house, and it was eleven at night before Toby drove me home. Regretfully I head to bed. I should have done so much more study, but I have an early class the next day. It looks like tomorrow night might be an all-nighter. I panic thinking about the assignments that I have to complete. I think briefly that making a few cuts will help, but I force the thoughts out of my head.

_I don't have time now. I can cut after the assignments are done. One cut for every hour of time I've wasted this week._


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to Aiedail01, DegrassiRoxzMiSoxz88, and Rainpath for their reviews!

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By eleven pm on the Thursday I'd managed to attend all my classes, avoid Paige and Marco, delete the two voice mails and seven texts that Jesse had left on my phone, and finish my assignment for Journalism class. Keeping my eyes open is a struggle, and the blinking cursor on my computer screen is proving hypnotic. There are no words, just a white page, and my philosophy essay is due tomorrow.

_There are no absolute morals. Discuss._

Ok, so this is about moral relativism – if only I could remember what that is! I think there was something about infanticide in Eskimo culture and how the implications are different in that society. Huckleberry Finn was mentioned, along with slavery, and the Holocaust. Well. With the depth of my knowledge, I'm going to be here all night.

By five am I've got a big chunk of essay written, gleaned from a frantic reading of my course notes. Proofreading it makes me panic, as I realize I've only described the position of moral relativism rather than answering the question, and I mentally kick myself. _Maybe a quick cut will help me concentrate._ _Yeah, that'll do it. _

I extract the blade I'd used on Tuesday from where I'd hidden it, taped to the underside of my desk. I block everything out of my mind and concentrate only on how useless I was at Philosophy and how awful my essay is as I draw the blade across my wrist. Glancing down I see that I haven't even drawn blood, there's just a faint pink line there. _Right, I'm going to need a more powerful thought._ I think about Jesse, and this time I have to grab a handful of tissues to stop the blood from spreading everywhere. It's helped, though, because I've thought of a way to make my argument. I stick a piece of sellotape across my cut, making a mental not to get some medical tape, and sit down to write.

_Some philosophers claim that there are no absolute morals, but this could be disproved with only one example. One such situation is cheating. There are no occasions where it is morally acceptable for a man to cheat on a faithful partner…_

I successfully managed to hand my completed assignments in before Psychology on Friday afternoon. Luckily Philosophy had been cancelled that morning because of the essay.

Marco met me outside the lecture theater.

"Hey Ellie, I haven't seen you in ages. Which is weird, considering that we live together."

"I've been busy with assignments – end of the term, you know."

"Well we are way overdue for spending some quality time together. Are you free tomorrow?"

"Sorry Marco, I'm going Christmas shopping with Ashley and then I'm going home. We can hang out in a week or so."

"Aww, come on Elle. Your parents do live in Toronto, we can hang out before then."

_But I don't want to hang out with you, because you know me too well. It won't take long for you to realize that something's wrong, and I can't deal with anyone finding out that I'm cutting again. _

"I really want to spend time with my dad before he leaves for service. And my cousins are coming who I haven't seen for ages. We'll hang out soon though, Marco, I promise."

After entering the lecture theatre, collecting a handout, and finding seats Marco was at it again.

"So why was Caitlin at the flat the other night?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing, Ellie? Nothing was what kept her there for two hours, outside your door because you wouldn't let her in?"

"Marco, can't you see that I don't want to talk about this?" 

"What's wrong, though? I'm worried about you Elle. I thought you and Caitlin got along great, you used to look up to her. What's going on between you two?"

_She made out with my boyfriend. _"Nothing."

"Back to nothing now…"

It was then that the lecture started, and our lecturer played a video about brain and behaviour. I couldn't concentrate by that stage, so I took the staple out of the handout. I glanced at Marco to see if he was suspicious, but he was engrossed in the video. I slipped my shaking hands under the desk and scratched at the back of my hand with the staple. I pushed an end into my skin as far as I could stand and held it there until the pain was too much to cope with. Marco was sitting right next to me while I tore up my skin but he never noticed a thing.

I left class as soon as it finished, not looking back at Marco. I didn't see him until I was at home that evening. As I passed Paige's room on my way to bed I overheard him talking.

"She's been so distant these past few days, and I have no idea what happened."

I paused outside her door and heard Paige answer.

"Your guess is as good as mine, hun."

"She won't even talk to me, it's like she's trying to avoid me. And something must have happened with Caitlin. Did she say anything to you when she came over?"

"Nothing, just that she was here to see Ellie, and that she was leaving her phone number in case Ellie wanted to call her later."

There was a pause until Marco asked, "where's the number now?"

"I stuck it on the fridge. Why?"

"Maybe we could ring Caitlin and see if she knows what's got Ellie so distressed."

"Ellie would kill us." _Damn straight. _"But that might be a good idea. Ellie doesn't deal well with stress, and we can't help her if we don't know what's wrong."

"Paige, she's passed that. She's been in therapy forever."

"I'm just saying is all. So are we ringing Caitlin?"

"Yes, we'll give her a ring tomorrow. Ellie's going out with Ashley so she won't overhear us."

_Oh God, they're ringing Caitlin? Caitlin will "do the right thing" and tell them what's happened, and then they'll want to talk to me about it, and Paige will demand to see my arm, I can't deal with that. _

I was about to go and grab the number off the fridge so they couldn't ring her, when Paige's door opened.

"Ellie, hey… how long have you been here?"

"I'm just going to bed, Marco, just walking to my room. That is ok, isn't it?"

"Yeah, of course. Unless you want to join us for movies and popcorn?"

Paige slipped out too, saying she was going to make the popcorn. Well I couldn't get the number now could I?

"That's ok, I didn't sleep last night. I'm just gonna go to bed. Night, guys."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating this! I was working 84 hour weeks for a while which didn't leave much time for anything other than work, sleep, and getting to and from work. In honour of it being the last weekend before Christmas, in this episode Ellie and Ashley go Christmas shopping. Enjoy!

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I slipped out early the next morning, avoiding any awkwardness from Paige and Marco who were both still asleep. Unfortunately, after I got to the mall, this left me with an hour to kill before I was supposed to meet Ashley. I smile wryly, realizing that this is the first time in a while that I've been on time to meet her. With only days left before Christmas the mall is crowded with people finishing their Christmas shopping, but the small coffee shop is still pretty empty. I go in and order my standard long black and settle in, texting Ashley to let her know where to meet me.

Ash arrives early, forty five minutes later, and slips into the seat across from me.

"Ellie, hey! Ready for a day full of shopping?"

"Do you mean a day of braving the crowds?"

She laughs, forcefully. She's thinking about something else, and I'm pretty sure I know what it is.

"Um, Ellie? How are you?"

_Bingo. _"I'm dealing. Can we please change the subject? I don't want to think about _him _at all today. Let's just go and join the mad crowd of Christmas shoppers. Peace and joy and all that."

She doesn't seem too convinced, but Ash leaves the subject alone and wonders out loud what on earth to get for Toby. "I swear El, boys are the hardest to shop for."

We decide to start with our parents, specifically our moms, because as Ash had pointed out males were notoriously difficult to shop for. In the department store Ash headed promptly over to health and beauty and picked up a cosmetic set filled with soap and lotions. "Mom – tick. Always easy to shop for." She picked up another and handed it to me. "For your mom."

"I don't know… what sort of a message is that sending? 'I think you stink, take a bath.'?"

She shrugs. "Nah, mom's always happy to get smelly stuff like this." I replace the set she'd handed me and head over to the jewellery section where I pick out a blue beaded necklace for my mom. We pay for our gifts, and with the moms down head off to a homeware shop to shop for the dads. Ash insists that it's _the _place to shop for dads, because you're getting them something that will actually get used, if not something they'll like. After wandering around the store for half an hour, getting stuck in many clumps of people, Ashley's picked out a set of barbeque tools for her dad and Christopher. I look at the shelf next to me and grab a coffee plunger. It's not like my dad will actually be home to use it, so who cares what I get.

After going halves on presents for our mutual friends, Ashley finally has to tackle a present for Toby.

"Well, what does he like?" I ask, trying to help. She shrugs. "Computers… anime… chocolate muffins…"

"Wow. You really don't know him at all. That's just… sad."

She gives me a light whack on the arm. "I know him, I just… don't know what he likes."

"Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah. Come on, let's go over to the electronics store and get something computery." We do, and she purchases a funky skin for Toby's laptop.

"Presents for each other now", she sings out.

"In front of each other? Shouldn't we leave it till later when we're by ourselves."

"Firstly, shopping by yourself is no fun. Secondly, there's not many days left until Christmas and the mall is just gonna get crazier.

We head into a clothes shop where Ashley grabs a black top from a rack. "I think I know what I'm getting you for Christmas. This is very Ellie."

She's right, it's very me. "Sweet. And you, what do you want from your best friend in the world?"

"Oh, peace on earth, goodwill to all, nothing big. Try this on, I wanna make sure the size's right."

I check the price tag, and tell her that it's alright, it's my size. "Besides, look at the line for the dressing rooms! I can't be bothered waiting." 

"Just try it on out here. You've got a t-shirt on, right?"

"Ash, it's ok, it'll fit."

But she insists, grabbing at my sleeve. I jerk away. "Ok, ok, I'll try it on." I take off my jacket and hand it to Ash, then carefully shrug off my sweatshirt, keeping my wounded left arm firmly against my stomach as I hand that to her as well. When she hands me the black top I pull it on as fast as I possibly can. I was right, it fits perfectly. I awkwardly remove it and put my own sweatshirt back on. While I button up my jacket she examines the top, and decides that it's also very Ashley.

"Do you think buying the same tops would be stupid?"

I assure her that no, it wouldn't, and we pay up. We wander around the shops a bit more until the crowd gets the better of us, then get a ride home with her mom who was also finishing up Christmas shopping. I'm probably paranoid, but for the rest of the day I could swear Ashley kept looking, glancing, staring at my arm. But she would have said something if she'd noticed. It is Ash, after all. Right?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N Soooo … it's been how long since my last update? Two and a half years? Yikes. Let's see if I can get back into the swing of this writing thing …

Christmas at home passes quickly, and soon I'm back at the flat. For the first two hours or so I manage to avoid Marco and Paige. Marco however manages to corner me when I venture out of my room to grab a soda from the fridge. I politely told him that I wasn't in the mood for company or talking, and he not so politely followed me back to my room and forced his way inside, settling himself down against the door so that I can't escape. Sighing, I plop down across from him and lean back against my bed. I'm caught.

"Ellie …" Marco trails off.

"Marco?"

He begins again. "Elle, I – well, we, Paige and I that is – we rang Caitlin."

"Okay". _Of course you guys did. I wouldn't expect anything else from either of you_

"She told us what happened with Jesse."

"Right". _Right, and what was her version of events? That she'd done nothing wrong, she didn't know he was my boyfriend, she was sooo worried about me, she wanted to be friends, wanted the world to be full of bubblegum and rainbows and unicorns. _

"Ellie, why didn't you tell us? We're your friends, we want to support you."

_Yeah, when you're not wrapped up in your own relationship dramas. _"Dunno".

"Enough with the one word answers, Ellie!" I jump at his harsh tone, and he reaches out and grabs my hand. When he starts to talk again, it's softer. "Ellie, I'm sorry. I just don't like to see you hurt. I want to help you, but you need to talk to me. Come on, Elle, we're closer than this. Let me inside your head. What's going on?"

I lift my eyes up to meet his. "Marco … really, I'm okay. I've just been a bit stressed lately, that's why I've been distant. I had so many assignments, Dad's leaving … and then Jesse hooking up with Caitlin was just too much to handle."

"I _really _want to believe you, Ellie. I _want _you to be okay. You're not convincing me though …" He trails off, keeping his eyes firmly locked with mine. We stare each other down, until I look away, attempting to break the spell he has over me. I can still feel his eyes though, staring at the side of my head and reading what lay within.

He sighs, and I turn my gaze back towards him, seeing that he's defeated. "Okay, I'll leave you alone. IF you come and hang out with me for the rest of the day. Let's go and lounge on the couch and watch _Saved By The Bell_."

I give him a small smile. "Sure, Marco. That sounds great."

He springs to his feet. "Great! I'll run down to the shop to get some supplies. I'll be back in ten." He exits my room, closing the door behind him.

Left on my own, my thoughts turn to my parents. I think about the last time Dad left, which quickly reminds me of Mom setting the kitchen on fire, and before I know it I'm freaking out about Dad leaving this coming Saturday. I stand up, breathing in and out slowly, trying to calm myself down. It doesn't work. I close my eyes and count to ten … who am I kidding? Maybe if I counted to a million it would work. But I don't have time for that, Marco will be back soon. Maybe I could … _no_. I promised myself I wouldn't cut anymore – the other week was just a slip up. That's okay. But I can't do it again. I pace up and down. I can't, I can't, I can't. I won't.

_Maybe_, I think to myself, _it won't count as another time if I use the same blade as last time. That's just like _one_ cut One blade, one cut – there was just a really long break between swipes. _My hand expertly finds my blade beneath my desk. I don't try to stop it. I settle cross legged on my bed. Resting my left foot on my right knee, I cut a small line from my big toe in the direction of my ankle. No one ever asks about scars on feet. However, there is something unsatisfying about the small, thin, pink line. I swipe at my foot again, and the blood that spills this time almost satisfies me. But only almost, so I aim again. And again after that. My breathing settles and the voices in my head quiet so much that I can hear the scrape of metal on my skin.

I don't even hear him come in, but it seems like mere seconds have gone by before Marco is cradling my foot in his hands and mopping up my blood with a wad of tissues.

"Ellie … God, Ellie, you said you were fine. Why, Elle? … he trails off. I've been avoiding making eye contact with him, but I look up and see tears streaking down his face.

"I didn't mean to make you cry!"

Keeping one hand pressed against my foot, he lopes an arm around my shoulders and pulls me towards him, resting his head against mine. "Oh Ellie."

I gift him a fragment of truth. "I started thinking about Dad … he's leaving on Saturday, and you know what happened last time … Marco I can't go through that again, I can't handle it. It's too much. And I remembered how cutting helped last time."

"But you know that it doesn't help in the long run, right Ellie?"

"I _know_ Marco. But short term, it feels so good."

"Ellie…" He pauses. "It was just this once, right?"

_Sure, Marco. Just once. _"Yeah. I just slipped up … it's just a one off. Hey, Marco … can we just keep this between us? I feel really embarrassed. Can we just say I won't do it again, and call it history?"

He doesn't want to agree, I can tell. I know Marco. He tells me "it's in the past", which is a noncommittal answer if ever I've heard one.

"Do you have first aid supplies?" he enquires, lifting the tissues and inspecting my foot.

I shake my head. "No."

"Wait here."

He comes back with a wet washcloth, antiseptic cream, and medical tape. Crouching beside the bed, he cleans and covers my cuts before getting up and grabbing a pair of socks from my dresser drawers, which he tosses at me.

"Come on. Let's go watch TV."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Wow, people still read the story – thanks muchly readers and reviewers

"Your mother's fine. She's under control."

Dad and I are downtown at a coffee shop. It's four days before he leaves.

"That's what you said last time, Dad." _And things were so "fine" then!_

He gives my hand a squeeze. "It's different this time, Ellie. She's gone to rehab, and she's been sober for over a year now."

"I _know_, but…" _But what if _I'm _not fine?_

Dad's eyes gaze intently at me. "Honey? Are you sure that's all that's bothering you?"

Suddenly, I'm incredibly interested in my fingernails. Black polish is beginning to chip off my thumbnail, and I scrape at it, making black flakes fall onto the table. _Don't look him in the eye don't look him in the eye don't look him in the eye_.

I look up and try to drag my gaze towards the wall, but my eyes are drawn back to his. _Damn_.

"How long will you be away for Dad?" 

He looks at me strangely. "Eight months, Ellie. You know that."

"How long are you _really _going to be away for? Last time it was supposed to be six months. It was eighteen Dad. How long is eight months _really_?"

He doesn't speak, so I utter a couple more thoughts. "What about _me_, Dad? What if I can't handle it?" I laugh a little. "You know how well I handled it last time."

"Ellie, you've come so far since then. You're a different person now. You'll be okay." He checks his watch. "Sorry honey, I have to get going. I'll see you on Saturday, okay?"

The café door shuts behind him, and I swipe angrily at a few stray tears on my cheeks.

"Ellie?" a tentative voice asks.

_Shit_.

Caitlin sits down across from me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm _fine_."

Unfortunately, Caitlin never has been one to give up easily. It's a quality I admire about her as a journalist, but right now it's downright annoying.

"I'm really sorry about Jesse. I swear, I had NO idea you two were together."

I shrug my shoulders and dig my phone out of my bag, pretending to check non-existent new messages, then take to spinning the phone round and round on the table.

"I know you have no reason to trust me right now, but I hope we can get back to being friends someday …"

She really is like a dog with a bone on this. Suddenly, I just can't be bothered with the Jesse-and-Caitlin drama anymore. Who cares? My Dad's leaving to go to some far off country which he may or may not come home from, and it may or may not be soon, and my Mom may or may not start drinking again, and I … I have bigger things to worry about.

"Whatev. It's okay. I'm over it."

"Really? Uh, okay. That's big of you."

"Well, like you said. You didn't know."

"So, umm … you wanna tell me what's got you upset? Is it just Jesse, or is there something else bugging you?"

I glare at her, and she holds up her hands in defense. "Sorry, sorry. Not my business. I'll shut up."

_I can sense a "but" coming. _

"But if you want to talk, or need any help with _anything_, I'm here for you."

_And there it is._

"You know, Caitlin, you don't need to be nice to me just because you feel guilty. Or because you feel sorry for poor Ellie, getting screwed over by a guy _again_."

"That's not it. I mean, I do kind of feel sorry for you because you don't deserve to be screwed over, but that's not why I'm nice to you." She pauses, awkwardly, and I can see her trying to arrange sentences in her head. "You remind me so much of me. You always have, from the first time you stepped into my office to interview for the co-op job."

_Yeah, in an oversized bright yellow raincoat after Paige had spilt soda all over my top. Don't remind me._

"I've had a lot of lucky breaks in my life, and if I can, I want to help you catch some breaks. You definitely deserve it." Her voice softens as she adds, "You also seem like you really need it."

My phone vibrates loudly on the table, making us both jump. I check it and see a message from Marco. "When are you home tonight? Need to talk. Know you said you're fine but I'm worried."

I look up at Caitlin, but don't meet her eyes. "Help with anything, you say?"

"You name it."

"Got a couch I can crash on tonight?"


	9. Chapter 9

I know. I know. I shouldn't have blown Marco off like that. I sent him a text on the way to Caitlin's, telling him that something had come up and I wouldn't be home that night. Yes, I'm a terrible person. He sent a one word reply, "OK". I tried to convince myself that he'd accepted my excuse, not wanting to think that – actually – he was disappointed in me.

"Here we are", Caitlin half sings, swinging open the door to her apartment. It's larger than I'd imagined it would be, and filled with boxes – she'd obviously moved in quite recently.

"You can put your bag and coat over here", she tells me, unzipping and pulling off her boots. I follow suit.

"Are you sure you don't want to swing by your place and pick up pyjamas or anything?"

_And have to __deal with_ _Marco? _"I'm sure. Thanks for letting me crash here."

To her credit, she takes the hint and leaves the subject alone. I wander through the living room, while Caitlin perches awkwardly on the end of her couch. There's an uncomfortable silence for ten minutes or so. I pick up a framed photograph of a teenage girl with two adults. The girl's smile looks fake and forced.

"Is this you?" I ask, holding the photo up.

"That's me." She stands next to me and runs a finger down the side of the frame. "I don't know why I have that picture framed, let alone on display on my coffee table."

I had every intention of using Caitlin solely as a place to sleep for the night, but my journalistic curiosity gets the better of me.

"Why not?"

She takes the frame from me, and sits down on the couch. I follow.

"It wasn't the greatest time of my life."

"You don't look very happy in the photo."

She's silent for a minute. "I wasn't. This was taken a few weeks after I discovered my father having an affair. I was mad at him, and feeling guilty for not telling my mother about it." She laughs bitterly. "Then, when I did tell her, it turned out she already knew. And she was okay with it. I couldn't … I _can't _understand it. How, why she could be okay with it. How they could stay together." She turns to face me, eyes earnest. "Ellie, I am _so_ sorry. Really. I hate what I've put you through."

"It's okay." And surprisingly, I realize that it is. "You didn't know. Jesse, on the other hand – all the blame should be on him."

Caitlin smiles at me, but her eyes remain troubled. "I never have been able to master the dating thing. Joey – Craig's stepdad – and I have been hooking up and breaking up forever, ever since Junior High. Also, there was a guy at High School who seemed pretty great … until he left me stuck to a fence to get in trouble with the police. Don't ask. A year on he started stalking me, sending me flowers and letters. I kept asking him to leave me alone, and then one day he told me goodbye. I thought good, he's going to back off. Wrong – he was found in a stall in the boy's washroom later that afternoon. Shot himself in the head. At university a guy dates me for three months as – get this – a _behavioral experiment for Psychology class_. I was engaged once – less said about that, the better. Kevin Smith – again, less said."

I feel a strangely comforting sense of solidarity with her. "My first boyfriend turned out to be gay. Which he discovered while we were dating. He wanted to keep it secret for a while, so we kept dating … Sean, you remember Sean? Skipped town and left me with an apartment I could barely afford. Then C –, this other guy, seemed like he really liked me. But in the end he was interested in the school slut. And then there's Jesse. Who I'm obviously too boring for."

We sit in silence, then Caitlin laughs. "We sure are a pair, huh? Hey, you wanna order some pizza? It's dinner time."

We order pizza and sit there eating and talking, until there's a knock on the door. Caitlin looks confused, but only for a second. "Crap, I forgot. A couple of my friends were gonna come over after dinner tonight. Is that okay with you?"

It's funny that she asks, because it's _her_ apartment, and they're here now, but I nod anyway. She opens the door and in walks Mr Simpson with a woman who I assume is his wife.

"Spike, Snake, hi. Come in, make yourselves at home. This is Ellie, she's visiting for a bit."

"Miss Nash, how are you? How's university?" Mr Simpson settles into an armchair.

"It's … good, Mr Simpson. Really busy though, I can't believe how much more reading there is. It's hard to keep up sometimes."

"Call me Snake. And I'm sure you're doing fine, you've always been a smart girl."

"She sure is." Caitlin joins us, sitting next to me.

"I know _The Grapevine_ is really missing you. The paper hasn't quite been the same since you finished school. Have you kept up writing at university?"

_Right, things may be about to get awkward _… "I … tried to. I was writing for my university's paper, _The Core_, but it was cutting into my study time too much. Maybe I'll be able to pick it up again later."

Thankfully, Mr Simpson's wife joins us at that point, with a bottle of wine and glasses in hand. He introduces the two of us, and she pours everyone a glass of wine. I take mine hesitantly, thinking of Mom, and sip it slowly throughout the evening. Someone suggests a game of Pictionary, which Caitlin retrieves from a moving box. We split into teams – Caitlin and Mr Simpson, and Spike and me. (Husband and wife would know each other too well, and have a distinct advantage.) I find myself having fun and the evening passes pleasantly.

"Snake, how is that supposed to be Africa? It looks like a Duck!"

"How can you not get that it's Africa? Look, there's Egypt, there's Madagascar –"

Caitlin tries to stop laughing and breathes slowly. "Oh really? I thought that was the duck's tail."

Spike and I smile at each other. We're well ahead at this stage.

Mr Simpson – Snake – picks up the bottle of wine. "Top up, anybody?" I decline, still having half a glass left. Spike holds her glass out for him to refill. "Caitlin?"

She waves him off. "I better not, with my epilepsy."

"More for me then."

"I hope that's going to help your drawing skills, Snake."

"My drawing skills, Miss Ryan? It's not my fault that you can't recognize Africa when you see it."

"Not when it looks like a duck, no!"

Spike and I end up winning by a large margin, and Caitlin and I say goodnight to the couple. She hands me some pyjamas and I get changed in the bathroom. She's making up the couch when I come out.

"I can do that, Caitlin."

"Don't worry, it's fine – I feel bad that I don't have a bed to offer you."

"The couch is fine … I'm just glad to be out of my flat for a bit."

Finishing arranging a couple of pillows, she sits down on the made up couch and pats the spot next to her. I sit down cautiously.

"I hope tonight wasn't too horrible for you? I'm sorry, I'd forgotten that Snake and Spike were coming over."

"No no, it was fun." And it had been. It had felt … homely. I tried to think of the last time I'd had a night like that. Home, with my parents, was tense and had been ever since Dad got news of his deployment. And before then, come to think of it – I'd just kept waiting to hear of his next trip overseas. And at my flat, well, there was Paige. So I always had my guard up.

_I wish things could be different. __I wish I could always feel as happy and as comfortable as I had the past few hours._

Caitlin's hand is on my cheek, and I realize that I'm crying. Damnit. _Stop it, Ellie. Now. Stop. It._ More tears fall as quickly as I can brush them away. Unfortunately, as I'm reaching up for the twelfth time my sleeve slips, exposing a patch of marred skin. Knowing that it's too late, I push my sleeve down. Caitlin deftly catches my arm in her hand. I look away, trembling, as she rolls the sleeve up towards me elbow. Her fingers brush across my wrist and I shiver.

"Sorry", she apologises. I turn back and see her trace the marks on my arm. Old, white scars. Raised scars. Newer pink and shiny scars. Even newer red, still healing cuts.

Caitlin had never known that I cut. Not while I was interning for her, when I first started. Not in the years to come when I'd call her for journalism advice. Never. But she seemed to be taking it better than anyone else had upon discovering my dirty secret. Still holding my arm in one hand, she gives me a hug with her free arm. I'm disgusted to realize that I'm now desperately sobbing.

"Ellie … Ellie … Sweetie. You're okay."

We stay like that for a good ten minutes before I pull away. "Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, sweetie. But I'd really like it if you talked to me about whatever's bothering you."

I cave and tell her. About Dad, about Mom, about living in my flat. She listens, without judging, giving unsolicited advice, or getting emotional herself.

It was kind of nice.


	10. Chapter 10

It's a really long time before I fall asleep. My mind keeps replaying snippets of the conversation I've just had with Caitlin.

"_How … how long have you been cutting?"_

_A sniff, a wipe of the__ eyes, a shaky breath. "Depends how you look at it. I first cut about three years ago. Around the same time as I started co-op. Dad had just left for six months of service in Kabul. He's in the army. Mom started drinking – a lot. Cutting was a way to cope. To block out everything going on around me."_

"_I did stop. Went through therapy and all that. But it's always there at the back of my mind. Then, the other night, after seeing Jesse with – with, you, - I didn't know how to stop myself."_

"_Oh God. I'm so sorry –"_

"_It's not your fault. It was my decision. I should have chosen not to."_

"_Anyway, that was just the tipping point. I think it's been building for a while."_

_"Did you know Craig came back a while ago? He told me he loved me. I believed him. But really, he just told me that so I'd let him keep doing cocaine. I was devastated, but I had to play the grownup and put him first, and make sure he went to rehab."_

"_Marco is my best friend, but living with my arch nemesis really isn't great. I feel like I'm always watching my back."_

"_After cutting again it was so easy to fall back into it. I'm scared that I won't be able to stop again. Right now, it's easy to say I want to stop, but when I feel like cutting I don't care, and I don't even try to resist it."_

"_Dad's leaving again on Saturday. Back to the Middle East. He says it's for eight months, but that doesn't mean anything. Last time it was meant to be six months. It was eighteen."_

_Quieter, whispering now. "People always abandon me."_

_Caitlin's response was a careful one. I appreciated her not breezing over anything I'd said like it didn't matter, and not giving me any direct advice that would only work out in a fantasy world. "It's going to be okay" has got to be the most frequently uttered lie in the world._

"_Ellie, often things can look like they mean something but actually mean something different. Life is so rarely black and white. Which is a difficult thing to realize. It's a lesson I've had to learn many times."_

"_Back in Junior High I wrote an article on animal rights for the school paper. There was a protest taking place against an organization performing tests on monkeys. My article was completely opposed to the testing, but I'd gotten all my information from one person. By the time I started doing more research it was too late to stop the publication. I found that the whole issue was a lot more complicated than I'd thought. It turned out that the tests they were doing on the monkey were to do with brain function, and part of it was looking at epilepsy. I didn't like what they were doing to the monkey, but it's only because of animal testing that I can take medication for epilepsy. And I wouldn't want to stop taking medication. No black and white, only shades of grey."_

"_So I'd learned the lesson, for a while at least. A couple of years later my boyfriend managed to convince me that we should protest against a factory making nuclear missiles – that anything we did was right, because they were wrong. We went and spray painted on the outside of the factory. Turned out that vandalism – and it was more vandalism than protesting – is very much wrong. I ended up with a police record." _

"_I can't speak for anyone else in your life, but I can promise you that I won't abandon you. Even if you want me to – I'm too good at not minding my own business! I'll be like your annoying older sister – and hopefully like a supportive older sister as well."_

I finally fall into a fitful sleep, and when I wake it's only been a couple of hours, and it's still dark outside. Lying on the couch, I try to get back to sleep, but have no luck. It's around seven when I get up, and when I come out of the bathroom, having showered and dressed, Caitlin's making coffee.

"Help yourself to breakfast – there's minimal pickings I'm afraid. I can offer toast or cereal. Do you still take your coffee black?"

"Yep". I pop two slices of bread in the toaster, and accept the mug she offers me. I sip gingerly – it's hot – hoping that the caffeine will kick in and give me an energy burst.

"Caitlin – can I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why did you decide to move back to Toronto? From LA, I mean, surely there are way more opportunities there."

"Well, I missed my friends and family, for one. For another, I was sick of bumping into Kevin Smith all the time. I swear he was following me around." We both laugh at that. "So, I got permission to produce _Ryan's Planet_ from Toronto, and here I am."

I retrieve my toast, and occupy myself with breakfast. Caitlin has to leave to sort out some things at work, and I head to university to kill time at the library. Avoiding my flat? Well, yes. Knowing that I can't avoid it forever – as nice and inviting as the thought is – I head back in the late afternoon. I have my fingers crossed that I will be able to slip in unnoticed, but no such luck. I'm bombarded by Marco as soon as I walk through the door.

"Ellie, hey, you're back. Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"You know, Ellie. You know." He sounds disappointed. Disappointed that I don't trust him I guess. He doesn't see that I trust him too much. I know if I tell him everything he'll look after me and do everything he can to help. He'll be there to distract me when I want to cut, he'll take all my sharps away so I can't. But in those moments I know that I won't want to be stopped. I don't want Marco to stop me. I need this. Just for a little longer.

"Marco, I'm fine. Really."

"You keep saying that, but I'm not seeing it. You obviously weren't fine the other day when you were –" His voice drops to a whisper. "When you were cutting your foot."

"I told you, that was just a slip up. A momentary weakness. It won't happen again."

He continues as if he didn't hear me. "And then you didn't come home last night. Where were you?"

"I was catching up with a friend. Marco, I know you're worried, and you want to talk, but there's nothing to talk about. I told you everything the other day. There's nothing more. I didn't get much sleep last night, my friend and I spent too long talking, and I'm really tired now. I'm going to go and lie down." I leave him speechless in the lounge and go to lie down on my bed. I'm drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness when Paige barges through my door.

_Damn it, Ellie. Why can't you __learn to lock your door?_

"What's your problem Ellie?" Her voice is raised, her tone demanding.

"_Excuse_ me?"

She puts her hands on her hips and glares at me. "You heard me. What's your problem? Where were you last night? And why are you being so rude to Marco?"

I swing my legs off the bed and stand up. "Paige, none of this is any of your business. So run along and leave me alone now."

Paige laughs, irritated. "Hun, it is my business when Marco's my friend. And he's really worried about you. He's upset."

"Well, Paige, why aren't you downstairs supporting _him_, instead of up here annoying _me_?"

"Marco's not going to be happy until he knows that you're okay." She falters slightly. "I'm helping him by helping you."

_Because it's that easy. Yeah right, Paige. _"I don't need your help Paige. Go away."

"Maybe you _shouldn't_ need help, but it seems like you do. Hun, all you've done is break up with a cheating boyfriend. It happens to lots of girls. That doesn't give you a mandate to be depressed. Worse things could happen."

_You have GOT to be kidding me. _"Worse things? Like, say, dumping your girlfriend? That seems to have been a license for your own depression. Maybe you shouldn't have dumped her, huh."

My mentioning her own break up makes Paige snap. "Look, Eleanor, I'm sorry that you feel abandoned or whatever-"

I zone out at the word _abandoned_. It's true. I do feel abandoned. I'd never admit this to anyone, but the one I feel most abandoned by is my dad. I shouldn't think like that – which is why I'd never openly admit it. He's doing his duty for his country. It's a noble thing. It's more important than I am.

I realize that I would take all the abandonment from guys in the world if it meant that Dad would never leave again. Whenever he's away I worry that he's going to die, and abandon me forever.

"Ellie? Ellie?"

"Huh?"

Paige, exasperated, runs her hand through her hair. "I don't believe this. You haven't been listening to anything I've been saying. I give up!" Before slamming my door behind her, she adds "and it's your turn to cook dinner tonight. Hurry up, I'm getting hungry."

Minutes later, there's a knock on my door. Thankfully, it's Marco, not Paige. "Elle? I'll cook dinner tonight. It'll be ready in about half an hour."

I feel bad, I really do. Marco hasn't done anything but try and be a good friend, and I've pushed him away. I just don't want anyone constantly watching over me, which he would if he knew what was really going on in my mind, and what was really on my arms. Hopefully Caitlin won't be too overbearing. Telling her as much as I did was a mistake.

Dinner is tense. Paige glares at me, breaking her gaze only to look down at her plate and stab another forkful of dinner. Any worry or sympathy she had ever felt for me was gone the moment I had mentioned her breakup with Alex. Unfortunately, she isn't content with simply glaring at me.

"So, Ellie. Have you thanked Marco for making dinner tonight? It was _your_ turn, after all."

"Lay off her, Paige," Marco says.

"No. No, I'm not going to lay off. Ellie, I'm not going to tiptoe around you just because we're worried you might start cutting yourself again. We've tried that and it hasn't worked. You're still moping around – besides, it's not like what happened is even a big deal. Lots of guys cheat. And besides, you should be used to guys using you by now. What with all the drama vis-à-vis Craig."

"Paige!"

Paige's words cut deeper and more painfully than any knife or razor blade ever could. I shove my chair away from the table. "I think I'm done."

"Ellie, stay –"

"It's ok Marco. Thanks for dinner."

I scrape the uneaten half of my dinner into the rubbish, dump my plate in the kitchen, and retreat to the safety of my bedroom – locking the door this time. I don't waste any time in retrieving my blade from its trusty spot on the underside of my desk. On auto pilot, I settle cross-legged on my bed and roll up my sleeve. Placing the cold metal against my skin, I inhale deeply. As I exhale slowly I tug on the blade, opening up my skin. Examining the blade, I see it is lined with drops of red. I wipe my arm with my hand and make a second cut below the first. Blood spills out from both of them, and I hold my arm up so that the blood runs down towards my elbow, thinking half-heartedly that I shouldn't spill blood on my bedspread. But by the time I've made a fifth cut I no longer care. All I care about is how much better cutting is making me feel.

I stop after twelve cuts, and realize how tired and light-headed I feel. Seeing my phone on my bedside table I send Marco a message, "I'm sorry", before turning it off. I slip under the bedcovers, pulling them tightly around me, and fall asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks heaps to everyone who reviewed! Sorry for the update delay (but at least it wasn't two and a half years this time, huh) – I had another plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone so my creative writing time lately went into _Fixing It_.

xxDescentIntoInsanityxx – Yes that always bugged me too! I also hated how, in both _Jessie's Girl_ and _Degrassi Goes Hollywood_, the writers decided Ellie would drink to deal with stress. I thought a return to cutting would be more in character. (Though I did like that they finally brought her dad back after "6 months" in Afghanistan, having forgotten about him for a few seasons.) Hence this story! I've also never quite forgiven the writers for their destruction of Caitlin's character in both _Going Down the Road_ (Kevin Smith turns up, and suddenly she's breaking her long term relationship with Joey? Seriously?) and _Jessie's Girl_ (hooking up with a college boy 10 years her junior? Really?) Caitlin's my favourite character from DJH and DH, and Ellie's my favourite DTNG character. They both seem to get a raw deal from the writers.

MiDGEt.x3 – "… and then Ellie died, and everyone was sad. The end." My form one teacher would not be happy! When we did creative writing she had two rules: one, you couldn't fix a situation by killing characters off, and two, you couldn't fix a situation by making it all have been a dream. She said it was lazy writing and not creative enough.

TheOnePersonYouFind – I initially thought Caitlin was going to tell Paige and Marco too. Then when I tried writing the chapter that way she refused to do so. I was like "come on, Caitlin, you're the adult here. You really should let someone know what's going on. Let's delete the last few paragraphs and try again." But she still wouldn't do it. I went, "what the hell Caitlin?" and she replied "I'm sorry! But I don't want to lose Ellie's trust after I only just got it back. And I kind of owe her, after carrying on with her boyfriend …" I reminded her "It's not like you knew. You really don't need to feel guilty." She said "But I do feel guilty, I'm not telling Marco and Paige. Deal with it." This is a common problem in my writing, both fanfic and original fiction. Characters talk back to me and don't do what I want. They have no respect for the author!

When I wake up the next morning my arm is throbbing. The corner of my duvet is splattered with blood. So is my sleeve, and there is blood smeared across the front of my top, presumably from my moving about in my sleep. Paranoid, I turn my duvet over so that the blood is hidden, and realize that I'll have to throw this top out. I can't risk Paige or Marco finding it in the laundry.

_Pity, I really like this top_, I muse, as I grab my phone and turn it on. It blinks, showing that I have a new text message. From Marco. "It's ok. I love you :)"

_Oh, Marco. So forgiving. So trusting. I don't deserve you._

In the shower I rub gently at my new battle wounds, trying to free the crusted blood from my skin. I examine the cuts I'd made the night before – they're long, and they're deep. They're almost enough to scare even me – but only almost. They're still fresh, and a couple reopen in the shower, my blood trickling out. I hold my arm up to the shower head and watch as the water flowing down my arm takes on an orangish tinge.

I don't want to stain my clothes, so once out of the shower I press a washcloth against my arm, willing the blood to stop so I can get dressed. It doesn't, rendering dressing awkward. I try to tie the cloth around my arm, but it comes off three times while I'm putting on my clothes. _Oh well_, I think, _I should count myself lucky that Paige hasn't come and knocked the door down, wanting to use the bathroom and frustrated that I'm taking so long. _

Breakfast is first on the day's agenda, and I'm decidedly unhealthy as I select two poptarts and put them in the toaster. While I'm watching it expectantly, waiting for my breakfast to cook, Marco comes in.

"Hey Marco." I continue to stare at the toaster.

He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder and swaying from side to side.

"I love you Elle."

Leaning my head against his I tell him "I love you too Marco."

"And I'm here for you. Whenever you want to talk. Whatever you need."

"I know Marco. Thanks."

My poptarts jump out of the toaster startling me, and Marco releases me from his grip. "Au revoir, for now."

"Where are you going?"

"Don't laugh, but I'm going to mini golf with a group of guys from class. Getting on with life, so to speak."

"That sounds great, Marco."

"And you? Please tell me you're doing something fun today?"

"Catching up with Ash. I'm not sure what we're up to though."

"Well, enjoy. I'll see you tonight."

The door shuts behind him, and I turn my attention to my poptarts.

"OK, Ellie, don't laugh."

I snicker. "You're the second person to tell me that today, Ash."

She ignores me. "Don't laugh, but our plans for today include … Monopoly! You, me, Toby."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I know it's kind of nerdy, but we've had family over for the holidays and played a lot."

I think of playing Pictionary at Caitlin's. "Don't worry Ashley. It sounds fun."

Toby seems to have a winning strategy, and by lunch time has more money and properties than us girls put together. He leans back and folds his arms behind his head, letting out a satisfied sigh. "I believe this is an appropriate place to stop for lunch."

Ashley throws a cushion at him. "Stop showing off. Just cos you're winning." 

"It's not so much the winning that pleases me, but the large margin by which I am winning."

"Whatever, Toby. But you're right, it's lunch time. I'm hungry."

"We have, literally, no food in the house. I'll go out and get something. You two can use the time to come up with new game plans. You need them." Before he leaves, he adds "and don't think of moving anything on the board. I know where everything is. _Everything._"

I've been laughing quietly at their exchange. Ashley watches Toby leave carefully, then turns to me looking determined and concerned. _Crap. This can't be good._

"Ellie …"

"Ashley."

She looks down and toys with her shoelace. "Ellie, when we were shopping, I noticed something."

It's obvious where she's heading, and I'm surprised she's being so careful, but I don't give her any help.

"Oh? What? How crowded the shops were? How little you know about your stepbrother?"

"No. Well, yes, but no. I noticed something that scared me."

"Christmas shopping is pretty scary."

"Ellie, please."

"Well, what was it then Ash?"

She breathes in deeply, and looks away. "I saw your arm."

"Oh, that? It's nothing."

"It didn't look like nothing."

"It was. Really. I just knocked my arm. While we were getting a Christmas tree. Those things are lethal."

"Right … so I guess I could ask to see your arm now, and there would be nothing to see that would worry me."

"I guess so." 

"Can I see your arm, then?"

"No."

"Ellie!"

"No. Look, just drop it already. _Please_."

"If it's nothing, why won't you show me?"

I look down, feeling ashamed. "You know, Ash. You're already got your answer. You don't need to see."

"Well how bad is it? Show me, Elle. You could need medical attention, or, or –"

I consider showing her – she's obviously imagining my arms to be torn up really badly, so showing her wouldn't change anything. I decide not to, though.

Ashley's on her feet, pacing. "This isn't good Ellie. This is not good. I need to tell someone. Marco, Paige. Your parents. Who's your group leader? How do you contact the counseling service at university?" 

"Ashley, STOP!" I'm on my feet now too. "Please, Ash! Don't tell anyone." I know I shouldn't play the guilt card, but it might work, so I do it anyway. "People knowing that I … cut … stresses me out. Please. I can't deal with more stress." _It will make me cut even more_, I add silently, knowing that she hears it.

"God, Elle, I don't know …"

"Ashley. Please. Really."

"You need to be talking to someone. Someone older, and wiser than us. Who can help you, support you."

I think of Caitlin. "I will."

She's surprised. "You will? Who?"

I'm hesitant to tell her, after I'd badmouthed her last time Ash and I talked.

"Just a mentor I have. As part of my journalism course."

She buys it, thankfully. Toby returns with food, and Monopoly continues. I try to carry on normally.

Saturday is cold and wet. Paige still isn't talking to me, aside from snide comments here and there. No great loss, though.

The weather matches my mood as I hug my father goodbye. He makes promises about Mom and I being okay without him, and about him being okay overseas. _I'm not at all reassured_, I think, waving at the bus as it pulls out and drives out of sight.

_Just shut up, smile, and wave._

"Well," Mom says, smoothing out her skirt. "Let's go and get some lunch somewhere, shall we?"

I oblige, and we select a small cafe. I choose a sandwich and slice from the display and sit down at a corner table. Having paid for our food, Mom joins me.

"So, how's university going?" she asks me after a few uncomfortable moments of silence.

"Oh – fine."

"Your courses are going well?"

"Yep." She looks at me, obviously expecting more. "I really like my journalism course", I offer.

Mom smiles at me. "I miss you, you know." 

"I haven't gone anywhere." _Always the smartarse, that's me._

"You know what I mean, Ellie.

_I shouldn't try to pick fights with her_, I chide myself. "I know. Sorry."

"You can come home whenever you like, you know."

I stare at her in disbelief. "But – Mom – I go to university – I live with Marco – and Paige – now."

She laughs. "Oh, not like that! No, I'm proud of you for going to university, becoming independent, and moving out of home. But if you want to come back for a day or two … you're more than welcome."

I decide not to mention that I had, in fact, moved out of home before. "Thanks Mom. I'll keep that in mind."

We lapse into silence again. Again, Mom's the one to break it.

"I'm thinking of getting a job."

I'm surprised. "You are?" It's not like she needs the money or anything.

"I am. It would be nice to have something to occupy my time with. Maybe I'll find somewhere I can volunteer."

She's lonely. I get it.

In class on Monday I get my Philosophy essay back. I passed – thank God – a B. Not great, but it's a pass.

Also not great was the pamphlet for the University Counseling Service attached to the last page, along with a note scrawled in the margins. "From your essay, you appear to be significantly upset about a recent break up. There are counselors available if you want to talk."

My teacher knows I'm a psycho. That's great, just great.

And to top it all off – because I am Ellie Nash, and if things can get worse they will – Jesse's waiting for me outside of class.

"Ellie – we need to talk."

"No we don't, Jesse."

"Look, I'm trying to apologize here."

"Don't bother. I don't want to hear it." I go to walk past him and he grabs my arm. A pained cry escapes my lips, and people turn round to look. I stare downwards and try to laugh it off, try to act naturally.

As naturally as possible with Jesse still there holding my arm.

"Is there a problem here?" It's a TA also exiting the lecture theatre. I'm really starting to panic now.

"Jesse you're hurting me, let me go!"

"I think that would be a good idea, _Jesse._"

Jesse sizes up Mr TA – what was his name again? – noting that the guy is much bigger than him. "Ellie, call me. I won't let up until you talk to me." He leaves, thank God.

TA – Mark, Mike? – takes me aside, as everyone who'd been watching loses interest. "Ellie, did you see the note I wrote on your assignment?"

I nod, knowing which note he means.

"I can't force you, of course, but the Counseling Service could help you. Think about it, okay."

"Thanks … uh, I'd better … get going. I need to get to class."

I leave quickly, holding my head low. A few minutes later I'm sliding into a seat beside Marco in Psychology.

"Elle, what's wrong?"

"Why do you assume something's wrong, Marco?" 

"I'm your best friend, I can tell."

I sigh. "I just bumped into Jesse. It was uncomfortable. I'm a little frazzled. Sorry."

I needn't have bothered going to class, I can't pay any attention at all. My arm is stinging and my sleeve feels like it's sticking to my skin. Some of my cuts must have reopened. I'm desperate to check, but I don't want Marco to notice. I sit with my hands under my knees, forcing them to be still. _Don't move don't move don't move_.

Marco nudges me. "Hey, you not going to write any notes?"

"Notes … right … I guess I'm still a little spacey." I free one hand, and attempt to take notes. Rather unsuccessfully – though it seems to keep Marco at bay.

"Ellie, it's Jesse. Look, I'm sorry about this morning. Can you please call me back? Let's talk about this. We can get back together, okay? Talk to you soon."

_Jackass_, I think, deleting his voicemail message. From my phone, if not from my mind. I hit 2 on my phone to hear my next message.

"Ellie, hey. It's Caitlin. Ryan. Just wanted to check in to see how your first day back at university was, and how Saturday went. If you want to talk about it, that is, you don't have to. Catch up sometime? Call me back. Or I'll call you again. Anyway, we'll talk soon. Bye."

I ignore Jesse, but call Caitlin back. She answers on the second ring.

"Caitlin Ryan."

"Hi. It's Ellie."

"Ellie, hey! Good to hear from you. How are you?"

"I'm okay. How are you?"

"Good, good. It's been a busy day. How was your Monday?" 

"It was a Monday." Caitlin laughs, and I continue. "Had a surprise encounter with Jesse. Not fun."

"I'll bet. You poor thing. And … Saturday? Was it okay?" 

"Okay as it can be, I guess …" I trail off. "Sorry. It's kind of weird to talk about over the phone." 

She's quick to assure me. "That's okay. Hey, do you want to meet up sometime?"

"That would be great. When?"

"Just a second. Let me pull up my calendar …" I hear the noise of fingers hitting computer keys. "Aha! Here we go … I'm free tomorrow at 4, or … oh … next Friday. Sorry. There's so much work to do at the moment relocating the show."

"Tomorrow's good." As soon as I say it, I remember that I have group tomorrow. I push the thought aside. I'm not okay enough to go to group at the moment. I'll get control over cutting, and go back when I'm more stable. I can't let anyone notice that I've relapsed.

"Great! What do you want to do? Grab a coffee, see where we go from there?"

Last chance to say no, we'd better go for next Friday, I just remembered I'm busy tomorrow.

"That sounds perfect."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: This may be the last update until December – I'm doing NaNoWriMo in November, and I'm also starting a new job on 4 November which will mean I suddenly have 20 hours less free time a week. (Getting to work will be a bit more of a commute than it is at the moment!) So I probably won't have much free time in November. I will be back though … you can come after me with torches and pitchforks if I'm not!

wisegeek dot com / how-can-i-tell-if-a-cut-is-infected . htm

is the website Caitlin mentions and quotes

…

Tuesday doesn't get off to a very good start. Although I'm getting used to things not getting off to good starts … or having good middles, come to think of it. And as for happy endings? Forget it.

Again, Jesse snags me outside of class.

"God, Jesse, what are you like stalking me now?"

"I just want to talk to you. You won't return any of my texts or calls."

"No, I won't. Do you know why, Jesse? Because _I _don't want to talk to _you_."

"Ellie, be reasonable –"

"_Reasonable_? Oh my God. You're kidding, right? There's nothing reasonable about what you did."

"I know, and I'm trying to apologise. But you won't listen to me."

"_Please_, Jesse. Just leave me alone."

"Ellie, we need to talk about us."

"There is no us, Jesse. Not anymore."

"Look, don't make this into a big deal. It was just a bit of fun."

"Fun? Fun for who, Jesse? Not for me."

"I know –"

"You know … but you don't care. Or don't care enough about me. It's over. Just, please. Leave me alone."

I'm shaking as I walk away, and scared that he might follow me. But I don't dare look behind me to check. I should be heading to Psych now, but I find my feet taking me in a different direction. Soon I'm locking myself in a stall in the restroom, leaning my head against the door.

I can hear a million voices in my head.

_Ellie, you're so stupid. _

_You'll never find anything close to love again. You should take what you can get. Jesse's it._

_He doesn't even really want you back. He only cares about one thing._

_This always happens to you._

_It's your fault._

_If you weren't so boring Jesse never would have gone after Caitlin. You'd still be happy._

_You're an idiot. _

_And you're skipping class now. Nice. You're going to flunk out of university. _

_Like Paige. Are you having fun living with Paige, Ellie?_

_She hates you, too. _

_Everyone does, really. How could anyone not hate you?_

I just want to shut the voices up. I close my eyes and think about how good a blade would feel on my skin right now.

_But you left your blade at home, didn't you Ellie? Stupid._

I put the toilet lid down and sit on it, placing my bag on my lap. I search for something, anything, sharp, becoming frantic. The sharpest thing I can find is a paperclip at the bottom of my bag. I dust it off quickly, and roll up my sleeve, noting a clear patch of skin near the inside of my elbow. I press the paperclip's end against my skin, and scrape. It does nothing. There's barely a mark on my skin, and the voices in my head are still taunting me. So I turn to my healing cuts instead, eyeing a particularly long and new one. The paperclip is sufficient to rip it open again, along with several others.

I enjoy the silence that cutting brings. Sitting with a wad of toilet paper pressed against my arm I can hear my heart beating, sending blood coursing through my veins and down my arm. Everything else fades away.

…..

Sitting in the café later that day, waiting for Caitlin, I can feel my arm burning beneath my sleeve.

_Okay. Don't think about it. Don't touch it. Don't do anything suspicious, Ellie. Don't show her that there's anything wrong. _

In a moment she slides into the seat across from me, looking harried. I feel bad for dragging her away from her work. She always has a million things on the go. I don't want to add to that. She shouldn't have to waste her time with me, or with my problems.

Caitlin shrugs her jacket off and brushes a strand of hair out of her face. "Hi Ellie. Sorry I'm a bit late, I hope you haven't been waiting too long?"

"No, I just got here a few minutes ago."

"Oh, good." She rummages in her bag and pulls out her purse. "Black, right?"

I nod dumbly, and she stands up. "Be right back." While she's at the counter ordering our coffees I slide my sleeve down, using my hand to shield my arm from view. I examine my handiwork, noting the redness on my arm. _That's new. It's never happened before. _

Caitlin returns after I've pushed my sleeve back down, and smiles at me. "So, how are you? Your Tuesday any better than Monday?"

I laugh softly. _Well, I bumped into Jesse again, and couldn't make it to half my classes because I was tearing my skin up in the washroom. _ "I'm okay. How are you? How's all your work at the studio?"

"Oh, it's going well. It's just busy getting everything set up, but it's all going to plan. How's university?"

"It's fine."

She reaches across and taps my clasped hands. "Come on, Ellie, this is Caitlin you're talking to. Talk to me."

"I … I don't want to bother you."

"You're not bothering me at all, sweetie. I enjoy spending time with you. I want to listen to you, I want you to be able to talk to me. About anything. So … anything new happened since we talked yesterday?"

My earlier resolve melts away. _It _is _nice to have someone to talk to. _"I saw Jesse again today."

"Again? Is he stalking you or something?"

I laugh. "That's what I asked him. It feels like it though. Two days in a row he's been waiting outside my lectures."

"Waiting to pounce?"

"Exactly."

We're momentarily interrupted when the waiter comes over with our drinks, but we pick up where we'd left off.

"What did he want?"

"Oh, to apologize, to make excuses, to stay together."

"Stay together?"

"We're not, obviously. But it's kind of scary that he's so intent on it. Hopefully he'll leave me alone now."

"I hope so. God, how horrible for you!"

She almost looks upset for me, and I remember her talking about the guy who'd stalked her while they were at Degrassi, and realize that she does actually understand some of what I'm feeling. I guess that's what makes me utter my next sentence.

"I miss my dad already."

Caitlin, to her credit, only looks surprised at the abrupt change of subject for a nanosecond, before responding.

"Of course you do, sweets."

"And I'm worried about him, and I know I'll be worried until he gets home, whenever that is. _If_ he comes home, of course."

Caitlin grabs my hand and strokes my palm with her thumb. "I wish I knew what to say. I wish I knew how to make it all better. I can't imagine how you must feel with your dad serving overseas."

"I feel terrible, whenever I think of him. And whenever I'm happy about something I remember that he's facing danger miles away, then feel guilty about being happy."

"That's not a bad thing. Your dad would want you to be happy. How's your mom doing?"

_Better than I am. _"She seems okay. Lonely though. We had lunch after seeing him off."

"And have you …" she trails off, unable to say it. I know what she means though. Unfortunately I can't tell her what she wants to hear.

"Yeah", I whisper. Her grip on my hand becomes tighter. "It's hard to stop. I think I want to, but then when I'm in the moment I don't want to." I'm reminded now of how my arm is burning. It's starting to itch too. I rub it, gently, so I don't reopen any cuts. Caitlin lets go of my hand and places her palm delicately on my arm. I think she's about to ask to see, but she doesn't.

_She thinks you're a freak, like everyone else does, of course she doesn't want to see._

_No_, I argue with myself, _she's just being nice and giving you some privacy. She cares. _

….

Marco, needing to use the bathroom, finds me in the early hours of the morning hunched over the toilet. I've never felt so nauseated in my life.

"Elle, what's wrong? Are you sick?"

I can only nod, and he presses the back of his hand to my forehead. "You feel really warm."

I drag myself to my feet and stumble to the door. Marco calls after me, "Go lie down Ellie, I'll be through in a minute."

In my room, I collapse on my bed and groan into my pillow. Marco's not far behind me, coming in with a wet washcloth and a tall glass of water. I roll onto my back and he presses the washcloth to my forehead. I close my eyes, enjoying the coolness.

"Marco?"

"Yeah?" He's hovering awkwardly by my bed.

"Stay with me?"

He smiles, the first real smile he's given me for a while. "Of course." I'm confused when he then turns and walks away, but moments after he switches my light off I feel him settle beside me on my bed, and wraps am around me. It's a Kodak moment, only it's dark so no one would be able to see it, and it lasts only briefly.

"Elle?"

"Mmm?" I've begun to nod off.

"It's cold. I'm gonna get under the covers okay?"

"Sure."

There's rustling and shuffling. "Ellie?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you cold?"

"No."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Ellie?"

"Uh huh?"

"Maybe you should get under the covers too. Is that what you're meant to do for a fever? I can't remember. Are you actually hot, or does your body just assume you are?"

I have no idea what he's talking about, but I know I want him to stop talking so I can get to sleep. So, holding the washcloth against my head, I sit up, draw my legs up to my chest, and then slip under the covers.

Two minutes later, I'm far too hot, and I'm feeling really nauseated again.

"Elle? Where are you going?"

"I feel sick, and so hot. I'm gonna go take a cold shower. I'll be back in a bit. Don't worry."

In the bathroom I peel my pyjamas from my clammy skin, and step into the shower, turning it on. I jump as the first cold drops hit my skin, but relax as the water washes over me and cools me down.

I inspect my arm, still crusted with blood. My skin is bright red and puffy in patches. _How weird_, I muse. _It's never looked like that before._

After my shower I put my pyjamas back on, grimacing as I notice that they're damp with sweat. _Not much I can do about that, though. _I head back to my room, where I lie down – on _top_ of the covers – and fall asleep.

…

I spend the next couple of days cooped up in my bedroom, generally feeling miserable and sorry for myself. Marco brings me soup and orange juice. Somehow I manage to prevent him from dragging me off to a doctor – what if they saw my arm?

At some stage I drag myself to my desk, and boot up my computer, intending to do some study – hopefully I can catch up with the classes I've been missing.

Logging into my email, I find a message from Caitlin:

From: "Caitlin Ryan" .com

To: "Ellie Nash"

Subject: Keep in touch

Hi Ellie,

It was great to catch up with you the other day. Keep in touch, okay? I want to hear from you! Although I'm busy with work at the moment, you can catch my on email or text, whenever you want.

How are you? Is Jesse still bugging you? Hope not.

Caitlin

…

From: "Ellie Nash"

To: "Caitlin Ryan" .com

Subject: Re: Keep in touch

Hi Caitlin,

The good news is that I haven't seen or heard from Jesse since Tuesday. The bad news is I haven't made it into university since Tuesday. I'm sick. Hopefully it doesn't last too long … I don't want to fall behind in my papers.

Thanks for caring. It means a lot.

Ellie

…

From: "Caitlin Ryan" .com

To: "Ellie Nash"

Subject: Re: Keep in touch

You're sick? You poor thing. Flu?

And you don't need to thank me. I enjoy spending time with you, and I want to help you out if I can. So do let me know if there's anything I can do.

…

From: "Ellie Nash"

To: "Caitlin Ryan" .com

Subject: Re: Keep in touch

I don't know if it's the flu or not. I have bouts of fever and I feel sick.

It'll pass.

…

From: "Caitlin Ryan".com

To: "Ellie Nash"

Subject: Infection?

Ellie,

You can tell me to shut up if you want. But do you think your feeling sick could be the result of an infection? I found this online:

One of the most obvious signs that a cut is infected is inflammation, characterized by swelling and heat around the cut. The inflammation may also cause the tissue around the cut to change color: it can appear reddened or blanched. If the skin turns greenish, blackish, or blue, it is a sign of a very serious infection accompanied by tissue death, and it needs medical attention immediately.

Infected cuts are also often painful and tender to the touch. The surrounding area may also feel painful or hard. While some discharge from a cut is normal, thick, smelly, or strangely colored discharges indicate that an infection may be active in the wound. Likewise, if a cut keeps breaking open and bleeding, this can indicate that the body's normal healing process has been interrupted by infection.

If red stripes start to radiate out from an infected cut, the patient should seek medical attention immediately. If the infection fails to resolve within a few days, or gets worse, a doctor should be consulted, as he or she can provide stronger medications and more in-depth treatments, including debridement of the cut to remove debris which may be trapped inside. An altered level of consciousness, fever, or headache can be a sign that the infection is spreading and that it may have reached a dangerous state.

Look after yourself, okay?

I think I'll give you a ring this evening.

Caitlin xx

…

Her last email scares me. What if my cuts are infected? Swelling and heat, check. Painful and tender, check. Fever and headache, check.

I haven't exactly been careful – reusing blades, reopening cuts, and not cleaning them or looking after them. I used to, but throwing out my cutting equipment last year had meant that I've made use of what I have.

Namely, a blade from a disposable razor, and a paperclip.

My first instinct is to rush and clean my cuts out with soap and water, but I realise that I don't have any first aid supplies – bandages and the like – to cover it with afterwards.

Right. I'm on a mission. My first port of call is the chemist, where I pick up some disinfectant, antibiotic cream, gauze, tape, Band-Aids, and ace bandages.

"Restocking a First Aid kit?" the cashier enquires.

"Exactly. Gotta be prepared, you know."

My next stop is the supermarket, to pick up some razorblades. Obviously, buying them at the chemist would have been a dead giveaway as to my intentions. I don't, of course, only buy the blades. I buy an assortment of groceries – cereal, pasta, and the like – that I'm sure I'll need at some stage. Again, a girl coming in and only buying razorblades – well, that's a bit suspicious.

Back at home I lock myself in the bathroom, and fill the sink with water. I scrub at my arm, reopening all my cuts, and washing them out. It hurts – a lot more than cutting myself does. I guess that's because I'm not trying to hurt myself right now, but trying to protect myself. When I'm satisfied that they're clean, I wipe disinfectant over them. God my arm stings. Then I apply antiseptic cream, before covering them with bandages, and pulling my sweater on.

_Hopefully that's done the trick. I'll die of embarrassment if I have to get proper medical attention._

As promised, Caitlin does phone that evening, sounding worried. I do my best to reassure her that I'm okay, although I'm doubtful of that myself.

"I don't think that my cuts are infected. I think it's just the flu. But I cleaned them thoroughly today, and covered them."

"I hope so, I really hope so. Maybe you should go and get them checked out though. Just to be safe."

I don't respond to that, and there's an uncomfortable silence, which Caitlin breaks, conceding.

"Or not. And you don't want to talk about it. How about this: we'll give it a day, and if you're not feeling any better we'll go get them checked out."

I'm touched that she says "we'll", instead of "you'll", which is probably why I agree, though I'm crossing my fingers and praying that I _will _be okay now.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, and sorry the update took a while … I know NaNo was over and done months ago! I've been caught up with starting a new job, and a death in the family. Then I decided I didn't like the direction I was going to take the story in, so I'm coming up with a new plotline … Anywho, on with the story …

…

* * *

My alarm goes off all too early the next morning. I reach out to silence it, and examine my arm as I do so. It might just be wishful thinking, but my arm looks slightly less red.

_One day_, I tell myself. Only it's less than one day, really. More like 12 hours. I have to be okay in 12 hours. Either that or lie to Caitlin, but she's annoyingly good at discerning fact from fiction, despite anything she says about her earliest journalism endeavours.

Orange juice is supposed to be good for you, right? I pour myself a glass for breakfast, and put two slices of bread – rather than my usual poptarts – in the toaster.

"Morning, Paige", I greet, when she sweeps into the kitchen, adorned in a pink robe, pink slippers, and a pink towel wrapped around her hair. I'm feeling charitable.

"Eleanor" she replies, without looking at me. _Well, I guess she's still mad then. _

"Busy day planned?" I continue.

"Work", she gives me. "And you? Busy day …are you planning to keep being an utter bitch to everyone around you?"

"Not at all Paige, I reserve that especially for you."

"Well, aren't I just the lucky one."

"Yes you are", I tell her, taking the toast that has popped up. Anger is rising up inside me, and I graze my hand against the hot metal of the toaster to quell it. Pain sears through my fingers, and my mind goes blank.

"Ellie?"

"Huh?" Paige must have said something.

She snorts. "Hun, you've really got to stop spacing all the time. I can't imagine how you manage to listen in your classes when you can't concentrate for more than five minutes. How do you plan to pass university this year?"

"Oh, by setting my room on fire … wait, that was you. And you didn't pass at all, did you?"

Paige glares at me. "Well, at least I don't treat my friends horribly like you do. Go to hell, Ellie", she retorts, before storming out of the kitchen.

I call after her. "I must already be there, cos I'm living with the devil!"

* * *

I text Ash while I'm walking to university.

- Say, Ash. How long exactly can Paige hold a grudge?

- A REALLY long time. Why?

- Just wondered how long she's gonna stay mad at me :D

- Sarcastic smilies don't work, El.

- Whatev

- We should catch up – feels like I haven't seen you for ages.

- I know. Free this arvo?

- Yea. Well, after school I am. Do coffee?

- Definitely! Where?

- Not the Dot. Ugh, it's too full of schoolkids.

- Schoolkids like you, Ash.

- Shut up :p

- Sorry. Joe's Café then?

- Great. 3.30 okay?

- Yeap. See you then.

- See ya.

* * *

Classes go well today. I manage to concentrate (well, most of the time), and I don't cut.

_This is what I've been reduced to,_ I think. _It's a good day cos I haven't cut. Most people have a good day if they do something extra. Get a promotion. Get a good grade. Save a puppy or something. I, on the other hand, have a good day if I manage not to tear up my skin – something no-one else seems to have a problem with._

Ashley's already at Joe's when I arrive, at 3.45.

"Well, you must be doing better – you're back to being late." She tells me as I take a seat.

"Haha. Funny, Kerwin."

"Only because it's true."

"That doesn't make if funny, necessarily."

Ash pauses. "No, I guess it doesn't, really."

There's silence. _Way to kill a conversation, Ellie. _

"So", she tries again. "How have you been?"

_I really hope this isn't going to be a serious conversation. _"Oh, good. You know. Nothing out of the ordinary. Busy with uni and stuff."

"Did your Dad get away okay?"

It's not on my list of favourite things to talk about, but at least she hasn't mentioned the other thing yet. "Yeah, he did, and her made it there safely."

"How's your Mom?" she asks delicately. What she really wants to ask is "Is your Mom going to get drunk and burn the house down again?" I'm wondering the same thing.

"She seems okay. I mean, I haven't seen her since the day he left, but we talk. She's looking for a job."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was surprised too. I think she wants something to do, you know? So she's not alone all day."

"That makes sense. And …"

_This game again. _"And?"

"How are you?"

"I thought we went through this already."

"_Ellie._ How ARE you?"

"_Ash. _I'm fine."

"So you haven't … you know?"

"No, what?"

"You know what, Ellie."

"Let's say I don't. I haven't what?"

"_Cut yourself,_" she hisses.

"Oh! That."

"Well have you?"

"No", I tell her firmly. "I haven't, thank you very much."

"Well sor-ry for caring". She's too annoyed to press any further. Good.

Our coffees arrive then, and we drink in silence. I'm really starting to regret this excursion. And I do feel guilty about pushing her away, but I don't want to talk about cutting with her. She'll turn it into a big deal.

"What did you do to make Paige mad at you?" She breaks the silence.

"It's Paige. You don't need to _do_ anything to make her mad at you."

She laughs, a little forcefully. "That's true."

"She's just annoyed that she's not the centre of my world."

"Ew, Elle!"

"Gross, Ash, not like that! I'll rephrase it … Paige is just pissed that she's not the centre of attention."

"So just being her Paigey self?"

"Exactly. Hey, aren't you two supposed to be friends?"

"Eh, not so much."

My phone rings, and I pick it up. "Hello?"

"Ellie, hi."

"Hey Caitlin." Ash shoots me a look of surprise.

"Are you okay to talk?"

"Uh …"

"I would have called later, but this is a rare piece of spare time I have today in between meetings. I can make time later, though."

"No, it's okay." She's busy. She shouldn't have to make time for me."

"Right. So how are3you?"

"I'm okay. I'm not feeling so sick anymore." Ash's curiosity has visibly piqued. Crap.

"No more fever?"

"Nope."

"And how does your arm look?"

"Uh – just a sec." I cover the mouthpiece with my hand and stand up. "Ash, I'll just be outside for a minute, okay?" I don't wait for a reply.

"Sorry about that."

"That's okay. So how does your arm look?"

"A lot better. The swelling's gone down a lot, and it's not so tender now. It looks clean, if that makes sense."

I hear her breathe a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I was worried about you."

Guilt creeps back into my mind. "Please … don't worry about me."

"Why not?"

Something catches in my throat. "You shouldn't waste your time."

"Oh, _honey_." I can hear the emotion in her voice. "Don't talk like that. Don't think like that. You deserve people to care about you."

I can't reply, scared that opening my mouth will send tears streaming from my eyes.

"Sweetie, are you positive you're okay?"

"I'll be fine", I manage.

"I didn't ask if you'll be fine, I want to know how you are now. Oh God. Sorry. That sounded really bitchy. I didn't mean it like that."

I smile. Not that she can see me. "I know."

"I want to see you. Are you free Saturday? I can make time Saturday. And I will, so don't feel like you're bothering me."

"I can be free Saturday, too."

"Good! I'll sort my calendar, and come back with a time."

"Sounds good. Thanks Caitlin."

"You're very welcome. I'd better go, my meeting's about to start. I'll be in touch about Saturday."

"Sweet. Bye."

"Bye."

I end the call, and turn to head back inside to Ash.

Unfortunately, she's standing at the café door, leaning against the wall, arms folded across her chest.

"How much did you hear?" I demand angrily.

"Enough." She says coolly. "I can't believe you, Ellie."

"_Excuse _me?"

"Something's going on, and you won't tell me what it is. I bet all you've said today was a lie, wasn't it?"

"No! Not – _everything_."

"Well, that makes it all okay then", she says sarcastically. "It's really had to be supportive of someone who doesn't trust you."

"I trust you", I protest weakly.

"No, you don't. If you did you wouldn't lie. And you're talking to _Caitlin_, but won't talk to me?"

"So?" I ask, feeling protective of my old mentor.

"So she hooked up with your boyfriend! Last I heard you hated her."

"Things change?"

She shakes her head. "Bye, Ellie". Then she's gone.

I head inside to grab my jacket, then leave, leaving half a cup of lukewarm coffee behind me.

* * *

Back at home, I sit in the middle of my bedroom floor. I can hear the television blaring from the lounge, and music coming from Marco's room. I have a box of tissues in front of me. I have a package of razorblades in my hand.

_I shouldn't._

_Really, I shouldn't. _

_Don't cut don't cut don't cut don't cut._

I guess I just haven't learnt my lesson yet. As if they have a mind of their own, my hands rip open the packet. Numbly I extract a blade. It's clean. If I'm careful, I won't end up with an infection.

I touch a corner of the blade to a patch of skin near my shoulder. I press as hard as I can, before dragging it down towards my elbow, letting a sob escape my lips.

I am truly _pathetic. _I can't go one day without cutting. I grab my bottle of antiseptic and pour some onto a tissue, then wipe my latest masterpiece clean, reveling in the stinging sensation. I tape a gauze pad over it before throwing out the tissue and the used blade.

If I destroy the evidence, it's like I never did anything wrong, right?


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Thanks to those who read, reviewed, and subscribed! And sorry to subscribers who received three notifications that I updated ... I kept finding typos despite multiple proofreads. That's what I get for writing well past my bedtime :/

I'm not sure what I think about this chapter ... I wrote it by hand, then when I typed it up I found it was shorter and moved a lot faster than I thought it did. It's a bit all plot and no character.

I keep changing my mind about where I want the story to go, having abandoned my initial plan from three(!) years ago, and I'm supposedly doing ScriptFrenzy this month, but hopefully I"ll have the next update before too long. :)

* * *

I throw them out just in time, too. As I sit on my bed, rolling down my sleeve, there's a knock at my door.

I freeze. There's another knock.

"Ellie?"

Crap. "Yeah, Paige?" She takes that as an invitation to open the door and come in.

"I said, 'Yeah, Paige', not 'come in'."

"Sorry, hun. I just wanted to let you know dinner will be ready in ten minutes."

"Thanks", I tell her, expecting her to leave. She doesn't.

"Was there something else, Paige?"

She exhales sharply. "I've just been talking to Ashley. She told me everything."

I laugh nervously. "Everything what? I don't know what she told you, but she doesn't know anything. She misinterpreted half of a phone conversation. That's all."

"How can you say that when you don't even know what she told me?"

"Because it's Ashley! She overreacts to everything."

Paige briefly closes her eyes. "Ellie, I didn't come up here to fight with you."

"No, you cam up to tell me dinner's nearly ready. Thanks. You can go now."

She doesn't, of course, joining me on the bed instead.

_Well, this is awkward. _"What did Ash tell you?"

"That you've been talking to Caitlin, and meeting up with her. True?"

"Yeah, but what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. It's just surprising considering a few weeks ago you left her outside your room for two hours, refusing to talk to her. And the whole thing with Jesse, of course."

"Yeah, well, that wasn't her fault. It was all Jesse."

"You were pretty mad though."

"Only to start with! Then I realized that she hadn't done anything wrong."

"Look, I don't want to fight with you", she repeats. "I'm glad you're talking to someone, whoever it is. Then Ash said that you've been sick?"

"I had the flu. It's not a big deal."

"Ash seems to think it is. If it wasn't a big deal you wouldn't have gone outside to talk on the phone. Ellie, what's going on?"

"You tell me. You're the one who seems to have all the answers. Well, you and Ash."

Surprisingly, she ignores the dig. "Ash is worried that you're sick with some rare disease, or that you're dying –" she laughs shortly – "sorry, I shouldn't laugh, or that your … that was it. Sorry I laughed. It's not funny."

I'm laughing too. "It is kinda funny. It was just the flu. I'm not dying."

Paige covers her face with her hands. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking. It's just Ashley overreacting. As usual."

I wonder if this means she's going to return to being mad at me. She's not finished though. "Ash – may have mentioned something else."

"_May_ have? She either did or she didn't."

"_Did _mention something else then."

"And?" _Not that I actually want to know. _

"She said that you … that she saw … your arm."

I could make this difficult for her, but what would it really achieve? "Oh. That."

"Yes, that."

"Paige – "

She interrupts me. "Is it true?"

I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. She sits beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Ellie?"

I have to look away from her piercing gaze, afraid that I'll break.

"Ellie please, show me your arm."

In an instant I'm thrown back to grade nine. And like that day, I pull up my sleeve, exposing my soul. I hear Paige inhale sharply.

"Oh, _Ellie_. I thought you were okay now."

"I was!" I protest. "I just slipped up … that's all."

"So you did stop? After talking to Ms Sauve I mean?"

I nod. "I was doing so well", I start, knowing and not caring how childish I sound, "so well, until Jesse had to go and remind me how unlovable I am."

"Ellie, don't blame yourself for anything Jesse did."

"If I hadn't bored him so much, thought, he wouldn't have gone off with Caitlin."

"Okay, honestly hun? Him hooking up with Caitlin probably had less to do with you, and more to do with Jesse's desire to make out with THE Caitlin Ryan. You know. To make him feel like a big journalist man."

"She _was _on his freebie five list", I muse. "I guess she had to be there for a reason."

"That he'd even _have _a freebie five list – ew. Did you have a freebie five list too?"

"No, just him."

"Okay, you two have definitely broken up now, right?"

"Yes."

"Good." A pause. "He doesn't deserve you."

I don't know whether to believe her or not. "Thanks, Paige." I tell her quietly.

"Any time, hun."

There's silence for a minute. "So, who knows?" Paige asks tentatively.

"Caitlin. Ash, Marco, sort of. You mean about cutting, right?"

She nods. "How do Ashley and Marco _sort of_ know?"

"Ash saw my arm before Christmas. Marco … saw … too." Paige doesn't need to know that I've cut anywhere other than on my arm. "They each think it was a one-off, though."

"Can't you just stop?" she asks. I stiffen. "Do you even want to stop?" I pull away from her, and she takes her hand off my shoulder. "Okay, you don't want to talk to me. I get it. But you need to talk to someone."

"Caitlin and I have been talking", I give her.

"Well, that's a start. What about speaking to a counselor? It might help."

"Maybe", I say, mainly to get her off my back. "I'll think about it."

"Do, okay? Oh crap!" She jumps up. "Dinner!"

"Paige?" I scramble up as she goes to rescue dinner. "Don't tell Marco, please?"

She thinks. "I won't bring it up. But if he directly asks, I won't lie."

I guess that's all I could have hoped for, really.

* * *

Dinner is only slightly burnt. We eat in front of the television.

"Boring – change the channel," Paige demands as the news comes on.

"No way!" Marco protests. "It's important to know what's going on in the world. Ellie, back me up here?"

I comply. "I'm with Marco."

I wish I hadn't. The leading story?

There's been an attack.

In the same military zone my dad has just left for.

Canadian soldiers have been killed. They're not sure how many, let alone who.

More details will go to air as they're confirmed.

I look at Marco and Paige. They're both glued to the screen, avoiding looking me in the eye.

"Excuse me", I say, standing.

"Elle?" Marco asks worriedly. Wordlessly, I leave the room

"Ellie?" Paige calls after me.

They sound even more worried when I walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. They think that I'm going to cut, obviously. I'm not.

My sharps aren't _here_, for one thing.

I crouch to my knees, and lift a shaking hand to hold my hair back, before violently emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

Soon there's nothing left in my stomach, but I can't stop retching. My throat feels like it's being torn apart. I try to regain control, pushing myself backwards and stumbling so I'm half sitting, half lying on the floor. I'm not sure how long it takes me to stand up again. Marco and Paige give up on calling through to me, then I hear them speaking to each other in hushed tones. I can't make out the words they're saying though, and I probably don't want to. I rinse my mouth out, and wash my hands before pressing them to my cheeks. They're like ice. Or maybe my face is burning. I can't tell.

I don't want to open the door, knowing that there'll be two sympathetic faces behind it. Then they'll try to say all the right things to make me feel better – but really, what can they say? And they'll want me to talk, but my face only has two settings right now: stoic, and crying. There's no room in between for talking. However, I can't stay inside the bathroom forever, so I unlock the door and step outside.

Paige, standing against the wall, immediately steps forward and wraps me in an awkward hug. "Ellie, if there's anything I can do …"

Marco had been sitting on the floor. He stands to his feet and joins what becomes a group hug. "Elle, do you want to talk?"

_Why does everyone always think talking is such a great idea?_

"No, uh", I try to form a sentence. "I should go. Home. To Mom's, I mean. I should check on her."

"I'll drive you", Paige offers, releasing me from her death grip. "Do you want to go now, or, uh …"

"Um. I'll just get my stuff", I tell them. "I'll probably stay the night."

"I'll just be a few minutes", I say, and Marco lets go of me.

"Do you need any help packing?" he asks.

"No, it's okay."

I go back into the bathroom, grabbing a toothbrush and toothpaste. In my room I grab a backpack, and mindlessly stuff in pyjamas and clothes. I can't remember what stuff I have at my parents' place. I do hesitate, but I pick up my blades and tools and take them with me too.

_Just in case._

"Ready?" Paige asks when I enter the kitchen. I nod. "Let's go then", she says, gently steering me towards the door. Marco follows closely behind us.

It's an awkward car ride. Paige and Marco keep up a jilted conversation with each other, while I stare out the window. I don't want to be in the car, and I don't really want to be at home with Mom either. I don't want to be anywhere.

I thank Paige when the car draws to a stop outside my parents' house.

"Call if you need anything." Marco.

"Or if you need a ride back." Paige.

I nod at both of them, toss my bag over my shoulder, and wrap my arms around myself. It's cold.

_Do I really want to be here? Is Mom going to be sober? _Images of Mom lying on the couch next to a pile of empty bottles, and of her slumped over the kitchen table, dead to the world, run through my head. I pause on the doorstep, and it's only Marco and Paige watching me from the car that makes me grab my keys and unlock the door.

"Mom?" I call hesitantly.

_Please don't be drunk please don't be drunk please don't b-_

"Ellie?" A surprised voice. Mom walks into the kitchen, placing a cup of tea on the bench. "You're here."

"No one else understands." And they don't. Mom doesn't get everything that's going through my head – like the desire to tear into my skin until there's nothing left – but she gets what it's like knowing where Dad is, if he's safe, when he's coming home. And this time, if he's alive.

"I was just watching television – waiting for news to come in. Nothing yet, but there's an interesting documentary about climate change on. Do you want to keep watching, or do something else?"

"That's fine", I tell her. She turns to head back to the lounge.

"Mom, do you want –" I pick up her cup, and see the tea is stone cold.

She turns around. "Huh?"

"Never mind", I tell her, replacing the cup and following her into the lounge. We sit on the couch, and I try to pay attention to the documentary, to keep my mind from wandering to darker places.

Thirty minutes later the documentary cuts to the newsroom, so an all too perfect woman can bring an update on the 'unfolding situation'. I hate her instantly, what right does she have to look so serious? How is any of this her business? Is _her _father unaccounted for right now?

She utters one sentence that registers with me. "Initial estimates from the Canadian Defence Force are that 22 Canadian soldiers have been killed."

_Shit. 22. _How many Canadians were in the area, 200 maybe? If I had a 22 in 200 chance of winning the lottery I'd be buying a lot of tickets. They're huge odds.

Subconsciously I shuffle closer to Mom on the couch, and when I realize what I'm doing I lay my head on her shoulder.

"I know, baby," she says softly. "I know."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N Thanks to all those who read and reviewed! You make me smile and want to update faster. The good news is I have a big plot point planned (which came to me as I was riding the bus into work) ... the bad news is it's still two or three chapters away.

rocklesson86 - I loved the simile in your review! It made me laugh.

christineexx and I C a big world - Thanks :)

lostandinsecure - Thanks! Lol I'm trying to be better at updating ... I go to a fantastic writing group now so I actually have dedicated writing time each week!

Special Agent Stace - Aw, thanks :) Yeah I was very annoyed at how the storyline was (or wasn't) resolved. So I had to turn to fanfic to fix it. I'm glad you like Caitlin's role too, I know she wasn't on TNG very much but she's my favourite DJH/DH character so I had to bring her back to play with.

* * *

_Ow, my neck_, is my first thought. _Was I asleep? _is my second.

I realize that my eyes are closed, and conclude that yes, I must have been asleep. Opening them, I note that I've fallen asleep on the couch. The television is still on, showing infomercials. It's 4.33am. Mom, too, has fallen asleep on the couch.

"Mom?"

She doesn't stir. I feel somewhat out of place being back here, in my home-no-longer-home. I can't just sit around doing nothing though, so I go and take a shower. I look at my arm as the steaming water runs over it, and think about my blades packed inside my backpack. Cutting would make me feel better, but it feels wrong to do it while there are more serious things going on. Besides, I haven't done well with not getting caught lately, so knowing my luck Mom would walk in and see. I don't want her to have to worry about Dad and me at the same time.

She's up now, anyway.

"Any news?" I ask hesitantly.

She shakes her head. "Not the news we're waiting for, anyway. They haven't named any names".

"Why hasn't he called?" I ask pitifully.

"You know how the phone lines are over there", she says, trying to reassure us both that the lack of a phone call is not because he's dead. "Are you going to classes today?"

"I should. I'm just about falling behind. Unless you want me to stay home?"

"If you should go, you should go. School is important."

"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?" _If the call comes in_, I add silently.

"Oh, I'll be fine. Elaine's going to come around."

"I will go to class then", I decide. "But give me a call if you want me to come back."

She smiles. "Ellie, you don't need to look after me. I'm the parent, I look after you."

* * *

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty.

_Maybe I shouldn't have come into university after all, _I think, waiting for my psychology lecture to start. Marco looks at me sympathetically. Twenty-one.

"I'm fine, Marco."

"I didn't say anything", he protests, looking away.

"But you were thinking it."

He looks at me, eyes full of pity.

Twenty-two.

"How can I not, Ellie. You're my best friend."

"There's no point in getting worked up until I know anything, so until then I'd like to get on with normal life, if you don't mind."

"Ellie, I don't think things are nearly as black and white as you make them out to be."

"Marco, _please_. Let me pretend. At least until I know, one way or the other."

He relents. "Okay, Ellie."

Twenty-three.

It's a relief when the lecture finishes, and I can head to journalism class. But it's only a relief for a second, because the situation overseas is apparently a 'great opportunity' to discuss disaster reporting. The lecturer doesn't even think to ask if anybody's going to be affected by it before opening the class up for discussion.

"I think it's great that we have up to the minute reporting now. So the public knows what's going on immediately."

"I like how much raw footage is shown now. So, like, less is being hidden. You see these videos shot on phones or whatever, and you see people getting shot and stuff. I think people deserve to know what's really going on."

I can't help but take the bait. "You think dead bodies should be shown across the country's television sets? Does that not seem a little bit disrespectful to you?"

"Nah, people have a right to see."

"So, families should have to see their loved ones' dead bodies on national television before they've had official word that they're dead? And soldiers who give their life for our country should be rewarded by having everyone watch their dying moments as some sick form of entertainment masquerading as quote unquote disaster journalism?"

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few", he quotes arrogantly.

"You make a good point, Ellie", the professor praises. "Do you want to expand on it a bit more?"

_Hell no. _"That's all I have to say." I don't meet her eyes, snapping a rubber band against my wrist instead.

After class I wonder if I should even bother going to Philosophy, since my first two classes turned out badly. I'm in luck though, as the lecturer continues to follow the course outline, and for the first time all day I'm able to concentrate on a lesson.

As I leave class my phone rings, and I jump, expecting it to be Mom. Caller ID tells me that it's not though – it's an unregistered number. The army perhaps? Though I'm pretty sure they don't have my number.

"Hello?"

"Ellie? Hey, it's Caitlin."

"Hi. What's up? Or I guess you heard, huh."

"I heard. The station's going nuts."

_Of course she's heard, Ellie you idiot. The whole country's heard, and she's a journalist_.

She continues. "I realized that I don't know where in the Middle East your dad is, so I didn't know how concerned for you I should be. Sorry, that's something I should have asked earlier."

"He's right where the group that got attacked was", I tell her plainly. "I'm just praying he wasn't one of the twenty-two."

"You haven't heard anything yet?"

"Nothing."

She pauses. "It probably doesn't help at all, but we just got a list of six soldiers confirmed dead. Your dad's not on it."

"Thanks. It does help, a little."

"Just sixteen more names to worry about, huh."

"Exactly."

"I know there's probably nothing I can do to help, but let me know if there is, okay? Anything."

"I will. Well, I'm getting behind in all my classes so I might wrack your brains for some help with my journalism assignments at some stage."

"Go for it, I'm all yours."

I think of something. "Hey, why didn't your number come up on caller ID?"

She starts, I guess at the change to such an insignificant topic. "Oh, I'm calling from work. My cell's out of battery."

Some things in life have a really simple answer. I just wish the more complicated things did.

"Do you still want to meet up on Saturday?" she asks hesitantly.

"Yes. Definitely." _Well, at this stage anyway._

It's as if she reads my mind. "Just let me know if that changes, things must be pretty, ah, changeable at the moment."

"That's one word for it, yeah."

"So what shall we do on Saturday? You can come round, if you like. Now that I've actually unpacked and my place looks lived in."

"Great."

"I mean, we don't have to, if you'd rather –"

"Caitlin, it's fine, really. Don't worry."

She laughs. "Sorry, it's sort of a favourite pastime. Worrying that is. Anyway, I'd better go, deadlines and all."

Deadlines _are_ pretty tight, particularly with disaster reporting, as we'd learnt this morning. If you have a story you have to make sure you release it before any other outlet can.

"Bye Caitlin".

"Take care, sweetheart."

* * *

"Ellie, dear, how _are _you?"

Elaine pulls me in for a hug before I can make an excuse to escape. She squeezes too tight, breathes heavily down my neck, and wears a too-strong lemony scent that gets stuck in my throat. I never have liked her that much.

"Hi, Elaine. Nice to see you", I tell her, dodging the question. It's highly unlikely that she wants an answer anyway.

She pulls away. "Look at you, all grown up. Last time I saw you you'd just started high school. My goodness, how did that happen?"

Ugh. "I got older."

Elaine gives a high pitched giggle, and I have to try really hard not to slap her. "Oh, you're _so _funny."

_Why is Mom friends with her again? _"Thanks".

She misses the sarcasm. "You're welcome."

"Ellie, how was class?" I think this has to be the happiest I've been to see Mom in years.

"It was good", I lie. "I'm getting caught up now." Another lie. "It was good to have something else to focus on for a few hours." And the lies just keep coming!

"Well, good", she says. "We were just going to order some dinner. Do you have any preferences?"

"Uh, no, anything's fine."

"Chinese it is then", Elaine pipes up.

"I'll give them a call", Mom adds. Before she can pick up the phone, it rings.

"Hello?" she answers. After a pause her face goes white.


End file.
